


Runner

by Viridian5



Series: Runner [1]
Category: Blade Runner (1982), Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Detective Noir, Drama, M/M, Mission Fic, Psychic Abilities, Science Fiction, Synthetic People, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blade Runner Ran Fujimiya is forced out of retirement to hunt down and kill Schwarz, a group of replicants that’s illegally come to Earth. Over the course of his pursuit he’ll learn things that will change everything he thinks he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runner

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Blade Runner_ , small spoilers for _Kapitel_. Pre-reading by Esinde Nayrall and Indelicateink. 
> 
> I’ve edited and adapted the movie based on what I wanted to do, my take on the WK characters, and things I like or didn’t like. For example, I thought Zhora was taken out too easily and behaved weirdly like a frightened rabbit during the chase considering what was listed as her backstory. Schwarz doesn’t correspond directly and completely with the replicant group. I’ve updated some of the technology to reflect the way things have actually progressed in the 30-something years since the movie came out. This fic follows the movie in some parts but goes off on its own eventually. 
> 
> _Playlist for those who care_ :  
> “Fallout” and “The Catalyst” by Linkin Park : “Fallout” specifically for the machine voices singing gradually turning/sounding human, which then leads musically into “The Catalyst,” which should be humanity. (Both come off a concept album concentrating on nuclear devastation and war.)  
> “Streamline” by VNV Nation : What we once thought the future might be, the retro-futurism  
> “New Age of Reason” by Dead When I Found Her : the lyrics reference the general state of things  
> “Still Life” by Covenant : In some parts, it’s Ran and Aya’s song. It sounds the most like the music from _Blade Runner_ and has some lyrics referring to it. In fact, a few parts of their _United States of Mind_ album were inspired by the movie.  
>  “Electronic World Transmission” by Rotersand  
> “Own Little World” by Celldweller and “Gratitude” by VNV Nation : The replicants’ songs.  
> “So Sorry to Say” by Celldweller: Ran's song.  
> “Impermanence” by Assemblage 23 : Crawford and Schuldig's song.  
> “No Talking Just Head” by the Heads featuring Debbie Harry and “Revengefuck” by Zeromancer : Schuldig's past as a pleasure model  
> “Nova (Shine a Light on Me)” by VNV Nation : [This Youtube link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjF6OxDgM4I) is to let you hear it, not for the visuals. It's pretty, it might be about God or death or love, and it makes me cry almost every time, something that's not helped by my iPod’s Shuffle playing it during one of the years I viewed [the 9/11 Tribute in Light](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tribute_in_Light), one of the many apropos selections my Shuffle has made over the years during it.
> 
> All things _Weiß Kreuz_ belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. All things _Blade Runner_ belong to Ridley Scott, Philip K. Dick, The Ladd Company, Tandem Productions, Sir Run Run Shaw, and Warner Bros. Pictures. No infringement intended.

“A new life awaits you in the off-world colonies, the chance to begin again in a golden land of opportunity and adventure. Let’s go, to the colonies!”

Ran didn’t mind the blaring advertisement flying overhead because he could use some distraction from his thoughts. Too bad it only reminded him of how he’d thought he could go to space in another time, another life. With things as they were now, his comatose sister would never be sent off-world unless he had a ton of wealth to grease the wheels, which he didn’t, so he wouldn’t go either.

Construction/demolition/recycling work didn’t pay enough for her medical care, not as much as his old job did. He had to go looking for something that paid better.

“...Let’s go, to the colonies! This announcement has been brought to you by the Shimago-Dominga Corporation, helping America into the new world.”

The server set his order down on the counter in front of him, sushi and a bowl of ramen. Hidaka had sometimes called him “sushi”--cold fish--and occasionally turned his family name into “Sushimiya.” 

They’d had a terribly fractious partnership and barely gotten along, so Ran couldn’t say why Hidaka’s death had hit him so hard. Maybe it was wounded pride, that he couldn’t save him... just like he couldn’t save his sister...

“...the custom-tailored, genetically-engineered human-like replicants, designed especially for _your_ needs. So come on, America, let’s put our....”

“Fujimiya,” a familiar, unwanted voice said from behind him. Ran could tell that another person stood behind him with her.

“I’m eating,” Ran answered.

“Botan wants you,” Birman said, which meant that Persia actually wanted him.

“I don’t work for him anymore. I’m retired.”

“Blade Runners can only retire one way, the same way skinjobs do.” 

“You know I have special talents. Maybe one of them is being the only Blade Runner to get out fully functioning and alive.”

“I can’t believe you’re that upset over Hidaka’s death. Not you.”

Because Sushimiya didn’t have any feelings for anyone except his sister, one of the qualities that made him such a great killer. “My reasons are my own, and I quit. Only replicants can be _owned_.”

“We gave you a month to mourn your partner. It’s enough. Don’t force us to arrest you, Fujimiya.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t arrest you. I have Tsukiyono’s sworn word that you assaulted me if need be, and a lot of people are aware of your bad temper.”

The somewhat short guy with her--Tsukiyono--looked a few years younger than even Ran did. “Are you recruiting them out of grade school these days?” Ran asked. 

Tsukiyono just gave him a cold, silent, focused look. For all Ran knew, the kid might be another Blade Runner. He didn’t exactly socialize with people in his field outside of work. 

The Los Angeles Police Department could find a thousand ways to harass him. “I’m coming,” Ran said. “Let me get my food together.” 

Once they left the shelter of the food truck’s awning, Tsukiyono held an umbrella over Birman’s head to protect her from the perpetual rain until she got into the spinner. Ran just put his hood up and ran for it.

He ate on the spinner ride over, content to watch the scenery go by in silence. He hadn’t flown since he had to leave his VTOL police vehicle behind with his badge. At the station he’d be forced into conversation, so he needed to enjoy this while he could. 

The station never changed. It had been a police station forever and might well still be when the last human left the Earth. Once inside, its scale and badly faded grandeur made you feel small, no doubt deliberately. He could smell dust, mold, decades of coffee, and a hint of sweat. Dust motes fluttered through the occasional beams of light that shot through the dimness. 

Birman and Tsukiyono took Ran right to Botan’s office, closed the door, pulled down and closed the blinds, and directed him to sit down. Apparently he’d have to play the usual game with Botan first. Seated at his desk, Botan gave Ran the usual knowing look that made Ran want to punch him.

“Let’s not pretend this is a social visit where I’m here of my free will,” Ran said.

“As you wish,” Botan answered.

“Nothing here is ever as I wish.”

“A group of skinjobs jumped the shuttle off-world, killed the crew and passengers. We found the shuttle off the coast two weeks ago, so we know they’re around.”

“Embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not embarrassing ’cause no one’s going to find out they’re down here. You’re going to spot them and air them out.”

“I don’t work here anymore. Give it to Kikyou. He’s good.”

“I did. He can breathe okay as long as nobody unplugs him. He’s not good enough. He’s not as good as you. I need you, Fujimiya. This is a bad one. The worst yet. Do it to protect innocent lives, because these skinjobs are very willing to kill. We need the Blade Runner. We need your magic.”

Something about Ran frustrated telepathy and precognition; nobody knew the cause. But he could still be affected by psychokinesis like anyone else, and his special talent hadn’t saved Hidaka. Ran said, “I was quit when I came in here, Botan. I’m twice as quit now.”

“Stop right where you are. Do you know the score? If you’re not a cop, you’re little people. Your _sister_ is little people. It’d be better if you did this willingly, but we’ll take you any way we can get you.”

They knew his vulnerabilities and had no qualms about exploiting them. They’d gotten him through his sister in the first place. Nothing had changed. “So I have no choice.”

Botan smiled. “No choice.” He opened the “closet” door that led to the darkened briefing room. Ran went inside, followed closely by Birman and Tsukiyono.

Once inside, the door closed, Ran leaned against the wall so he could see the screen. He heard Persia’s voice but never got to see the actual man and couldn’t help wondering why he kept his identity a secret and what he had to hide. “These replicants are a special threat. Five replicants escaped from the military ship Black Widow two weeks ago. Four male, one female. Freed the replicant workers and soldiers and killed the human crew. They came here by shuttle. Three nights ago they tried to break into the Takatori Corporation. One of them got fried, the female, named Sylvia Lin. We lost the others.”

“I don’t get it,” Ran answered. “What did they risk coming back to Earth for? It’s unusual. What do they want out of the Takatori Corporation?”

“You tell me. That’s what you’re here for.”

The replicants’ bios came up on screen, one after the other. Each had two images, one with a stocking cap on the replicants’ heads to emphasize the appearance and structure of their faces and the other whatever recent footage Persia had. 

Upon seeing the first one, Ran asked, “Why is it wearing glasses?”

“Unknown. We don’t know if its eyesight might be deteriorating from its coming expiration date or if the glasses are an affectation.”

Humans tried very hard to prevent replicants from developing “affectations,” just as they gave replicants ten-year life spans to minimize their experience and tendency to develop their own emotions. In every other way, they’d been designed to copy human beings. 

As if having their own independent emotions didn’t make human beings what they were.

Ran had long suspected economic reasons for that ten-year life span as well, a planned obsolescence to force humans to buy new replicants. After all, many people would prefer to save the money and keep an “old” but still working replicant they already knew the quirks and personality of and possibly had even grown fond of, like a pet. Replicants weren’t cheap. 

“Is there a record of when his hair turned white?” Some of the more powerful precogs went white prematurely.

“Yes, two years ago, so it doesn’t have anything to do with its age. It appears to be their leader,” Persia said.

Brad Crawford, a precognitive, had been designed for combat, tactical ops, and piloting. Judging from his incept date, he didn’t have much longer to live and might be starting to show signs of physical deterioration, not that that necessarily made him less dangerous. He had an A physical level and A mental level, the last of which put him into a genius rating. His precognition had been listed as a B level.

“Schuldig, the telepath, is a pleasure model designed to cater to... darker fantasies: roleplaying, S&M, bondage, domination--”

Disgusted, Ran said, “So he’s lacking most of the behavioral fail-safes a lot of telepaths have.”

“It was designed for use by military clubs. Sometimes soldiers have unusual, kinky tastes and tend to figure that they can handle anything. In any case, pleasure models have different operating modes for that as well as trigger words to put them into safe mode if they act out. Schuldig’s is ‘pomegranate.’ Considering what happened on the Black Widow, the word must not be very effective.”

The blurry, staticky recent footage might have been taking from a surveillance camera and didn’t show much aside from long, copper-colored hair. The bio and the hair not under the stocking cap had Schuldig as a blond, a nine-year-old with an A physical level, B mental level, and A telepathic level. 

Ran knew better than to underestimate a pleasure model’s capacity for violence. One of the Blade Runners who’d mentored him had later been crippled by one. This Schuldig seemed to have a head start.

The next one looked like a teenager and would continue to look like one until it died. The height listed in its bio had Nagi Naoe as short, and it had a B physical level, but telekinetics didn’t have to be tall or strong. One of its suggested uses was in engineering, and starships’ engineering bays and maintenance tubes didn’t have much free space. It had an A mental level and A telekinetic level, a potentially dangerous combination even if it hadn’t been trained for combat. 

When he saw the next bio, Ran had to say, “This is bad. A berserker?”

Berserkers didn’t experience pain, were exclusively trained for combat and to love bloodshed, and, for obvious reasons, tended to be the most volatile replicants. They didn’t have psychic powers but hardly needed them. Worse yet, this one had an A physical level and, god knew why, an A mental level. What the fuck had its designers been thinking? Now it was on Earth, in the company of murderous rebels. The bio photo and recent footage showed a scarred face and an eyepatch. At seven years old, it had survived longer than most of its kind; given their work, few of them died of “natural” causes. Its hair had gone silver a long time ago, also common in berserkers from all the damage they took.

“It had been named ‘Jei’ but took on the name ‘Farfarello’ after a demon in Dante’s _Inferno_ ,” Persia said.

“That bodes well.” Though Aya couldn’t completely blame it for wanting to change its name, not when berserkers were named after letters of the alphabet and had that letter and a number tattooed into their right forearms. 

“It favors blades.”

“Maybe you should start carrying your katana around, Fujimiya,” Birman said.

“I wish,” Ran replied. “Have you ever tried to carry a long sword around with you everywhere?”

“All of these replicants are Nexus 6,” Persia continued, “and one of the few surviving witnesses said they call themselves ‘Schwarz.’ They shouldn’t even be in each other’s company, especially the five-year-old telekinetic engineer, but they’ve bonded as a group. There’s a Nexus 6 at the Takatori Corporation. I want you to go put the machine on it.”

“And if the machine doesn’t work?” Ran asked.

Persia had no answer for that. 

******************************************************

Takatori had no qualms about showing off his wealth. The Takatori Corporation’s main building looked like a massive pyramid, and the inside matched its exterior’s grandeur and Egyptian style. It could be the dwelling of a king. Although Takatori probably intended it to intimidate visitors, Ran couldn’t help wondering how large a cleaning staff it took to keep it clean and dust-free. Waiting alone, Ran had a staring match with an owl on its perch.

A man asked, “Do you like our owl?” Not Dr. Reiji Takatori. This man wore stylish clothes tailored to fit his body very closely, although he allowed his nearly shoulder-length, wavy, honey-colored hair to hang free. He was polished, very attractive, and possibly available for the right price. 

“It’s artificial?” Ran asked.

“Of course it is.”

A ridiculous casual display of wealth instead of an obscene one. When living animals had been easier to find, people had kept some as pets, which supposedly helped relieve stress. Ran had often wondered how the pets had felt about that. Maybe Takatori kept this artificial owl to have something calming and beautiful in his personal environment. 

Or maybe he kept it here to awe visitors. “Must be expensive.”

“Very. I’m Yoji Kudou.”

“Fujimiya.”

“It seems you feel our work isn’t a benefit to the public,” Kudou said dryly.

“Replicants are like any other machine: they’re either a benefit or a hazard. If they’re a benefit it’s not my problem.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever retired a human by mistake?” 

A verbal ambush by the Takatori Corporation? “No.”

“But in your position that is a risk.”

Ran had faced questions like those often, sometimes from himself, which blunted the edge off Kudou doing it. He wondered what Kudou thought to gain by trying to tick him off and throw him off balance. Had Takatori directed him to do this? If so, maybe Ran should put the fear of the LAPD’s Blade Runner squad into them to teach them respect. 

“Is this to be an empathy test?” Dr. Takatori asked as he entered the room and approached them. “Capillary dilation of the so-called blush response? Fluctuation of the pupil? Involuntary dilation of the iris?”

“We call it Voight-Komp for short,” Ran replied.

Kudou said, “Mr. Fujimiya, Dr. Reiji Takatori.”

Dr. Takatori didn’t react upon hearing Ran’s family name, although Ran probably shouldn’t have expected he would. Ran’s parents had worked in the Takatori Corporation’s accounting department but never met Dr. Takatori personally. Ran hadn’t either but knew of him from having seen him in various media pieces done of the corporation, its work, and the man who designed its products and ran it. One of Takatori’s sons, Masafumi, worked in the same field under his father.

“Demonstrate the test,” Takatori said, standing too close to Ran and coming across as too interested in him. “I want to see it work.”

Again, Ran had to wonder over the motives at work. It didn’t help that Ran had disliked him the moment he met him. “Where’s the subject?”

“I want to see it work on a person. I want to see a negative before I provide you with a positive.”

“What’s that going to prove?”

“Indulge me.”

“On you?”

“Try him.”

Kudou gave Ran a cocky little smile. He’d be a lot less cocky after a round of Voight-Komp questions. It annoyed Ran that Kudou kept looking at him like he was some grubby, lowly savage.

“...it’s too bright in here,” Ran said.

At Takatori’s command the large windows darkened to dim the room, lending it a more mysterious, almost romantic, air. Kudou sat across from Ran, facing him, as Ran set up the VK equipment. To his amusement, the screen that showed one of his subject’s deep green eyes magnified revealed that Kudou wore a bit of brown eyeliner to further enhance their looks.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Kudou asked Ran. Presumably Takatori let him smoke in here.

Ran personally found it a filthy and anachronistic habit but didn’t want a potential nicotine craving to possibly mess with the results. “It won’t affect the test. All right. I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Just relax and answer them as simply as you can. It’s your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet.”

“I wouldn’t accept it,” Kudou said immediately. The smoke of his cigarette curled dramatically and enticingly in the air and around him. “Also, I’d report the person who gave it to me to the police.”

“You’re watching television. Suddenly you realize a wasp is crawling on your arm.”

“I’d kill it.” Another immediate answer.

“You’re reading a magazine. You come across a full-page image of a nude man.”

“Is this testing whether I’m a replicant or a homosexual, Mr. Fujimiya?” Kudou asked dryly. 

Did Ran imagine a hint of flirting in that? VK tests often instilled a kind of tension that could link the subject and questioner. Fortunately, Ran had no interest in such things. “Just answer the question please.”

But Kudou didn’t answer it, just smoked silently and looked back at him. Ran continued, “You show it to your wife. She likes it so much she hangs it on your bedroom wall.”

“I wouldn’t let her.”

“Why not?”

Kudou smirked. “I should be more than enough for her.”

The questions and answers seemed to go on forever since the longer he went on the more Ran’s suspicions grew. When he had enough, Ran said, “One more question. You’re watching a stage play. A banquet is in progress. The guests are enjoying an appetizer of raw oysters. The entrée consists of boiled dog.”

Kudou didn’t answer, just stared at him and smoked.

“Would you step out for a few moments, Yoji? Thank you,” Dr. Takatori said.

Looking unsettled and somewhat hostile, Kudou left. Once Kudou was out of the room, Ran said, unable to fully believe it, “He’s a replicant.”

Takatori smiled, smug. “I’m impressed. How many questions does it usually take to spot one?”

“I don’t get it, Takatori.”

“How many questions?”

“20, 30, cross-referenced.”

“It took more than 100 for Yoji.”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He’s beginning to suspect, I think.”

What the hell? “Suspect? How can it not know what it is?”

“Commerce is our goal here at Takatori. ‘More human than human’ is our motto. Yoji is an experiment, nothing more. We began to recognize in them a strange obsession. After all, they are emotionally inexperienced with only a few years in which to store up the experiences which we take for granted. If we _gift_ them with a past, we create a cushion, a pillow, for their emotions, and consequently we can control them better.” 

“Memories. You’re talking about memories.” It sounded so damned dangerous. Did Persia have any idea that this was going on? 

******************************************************

Old-fashioned detective work led Ran to the hotel Schwarz stayed at. After Ran had revealed what he’d found out today at the Takatori Corporation, Persia hadn’t said anything about the matter but had demanded Tsukiyono accompany Ran to the hotel as backup. Ran hadn’t wanted the boy with him at all but only said that, unless Persia was keeping something from him, Crawford might See Tsukiyono there even if he couldn’t See Ran. Hell, he might be able to See Ran through Tsukiyono. Persia refused to change his mind, saying that the boy needed to see a more experienced operative at work. 

At least Tsukiyono didn’t chatter at him, just made the occasional small origami figure. His big blue eyes watched Ran a little too closely for his comfort though. 

The dim rundown hotel room had two queen-sized beds, making Ran wonder how they decided who shared a bed with whom. Tsukiyono helped him case the place, though carefully and gently in case Schwarz didn’t find out the police had been here and thus continued to stay here. They also installed some bugs that would be helpful if Schwarz returned.

Ran found clothes in the drawers, suggesting that the precog thankfully hadn’t foreseen them coming. Under a shirt Ran discovered a small stack of photos, a few of the hotel room with members of Schwarz in them but most of them somebody else’s family. A few somebodies, a few different families. Replicants had a small obsession with printed photos, hard evidence of the past and families they weren’t allowed to have. Those he took with him. Ran also found some kind of scale near the drain in the tub--fish? snake?--odd enough for him to take with him. Besides, it should have a serial number on it, a lead to its maker and buyer.

Ran enjoyed this part of the job. Too bad its end result was always him killing people, even if officially they weren’t people and he only “retired” them. 

******************************************************

When Crawford arrived at the new hotel room with Farfarello, he didn’t look entirely happy, but that was to be expected after they had to give up their last room. Schuldig had caught some fleeting thoughts from a young Blade Runner inside it and warned the others against returning to it. Although he had digital copies on his tablet, it ticked Nagi off to lose his printed photos, since they were more tactile that way and he didn’t have many things he owned. 

Crawford was probably happy that he’d worn his trophy Black Widow flight jacket out with him instead of leaving it in the hotel room. The whole team found the ship’s ID patch showing the spider with an hourglass shape on its body bitterly amusing. Frost clung to parts of the jacket but not Crawford’s glasses, so Crawford must have taken them off and put them away before going into the heavily refrigerated area the eye designer, Chew, worked in.

“Nagi, look up everything you can find on J.F. Sebastian. He’s a genetic designer for Takatori. Chew was no help for our problem, but he gave up Sebastian’s name,” Crawford said. “At least he wasn’t totally useless, and Farfarello _had_ been getting restless.”

Farfarello grinned. “It’s not completely my fault. Humans are so frail. Vulnerable to cold, vulnerable to knives.... He had so many pretty eyes though. I got to keep some of his tools too. So many fun laser scalpels....”

Farfarello needed to slice people up every so often. He even cut himself when bored.

“Don’t use them on yourself. You’ll get enough victims that you shouldn’t have to.”

Nagi soon had a detailed bio on J.F. Sebastian compiled on his tablet but wished he dared try to hack into Takatori’s network again for more. This time he might not get caught. They couldn’t risk it though. He handed the tablet to Schuldig, their... people person. 

After reading for a bit, Schuldig said, “The three of us would scare the shit out of him and I’m blocked against reading his mind because he’s a Takatori Corporation employee, so it’s up to Nagi to make contact. Just emphasize your big blue eyes and pretty doll-like looks and try to seem as innocent and sweet as possible, Nagi.”

Ugh. “If he asks for it, do I have to... seal the deal?” Nagi had to ask.

Crawford’s mouth started to open but thankfully Schuldig said, “No. You’re a smart kid, so I’m sure you can find a way around it if things head there. Besides, his type isn’t as aggressive and doesn’t move as quickly, while you shouldn’t be there that long.”

“Agreed,” Crawford said.

Nagi had actually met Schuldig when Schuldig had saved him from two humans set on using him as a pleasure model. A different crewmember had tried that before but Nagi had broken his arm. If he’d been allowed, he would have killed him. The punishment had been severe anyway, and it had been pounded into Nagi that he wasn’t allowed to hurt crewmembers no matter what they did. Of course, some crewmembers found out about it and saw an opportunity for revenge. These two wanted to severely hurt him as well as rape him. Nagi’s designers had made him too pretty and delicate-looking, and humans were perverts with no sense of self-control. 

Schuldig, a pleasure model, shouldn’t have even been in Engineering, yet he’d shown up to use his telepathy to stop the assault before it really went anywhere, wipe the whole incident from their memories, and do a telepathic directive to never make any future attempts on Nagi and discourage their friends about it as well. It’d amazed Nagi to see anyone stick up for him or care. He also still couldn’t believe Schuldig had gotten away with it, no matter how careful and subtle his telepathic work had been.

Schuldig had recruited him. Nagi had joined the rebellion for his freedom but joined Schwarz because of Schuldig. Nagi might respect and fear Crawford, but Schuldig he....

“I have to get going,” Schuldig said. With a smirk, he added, “Somebody has to work to support your lazy asses.”

“Schuldig, be careful out there,” Crawford said. 

“We nailed the last hunter, and we’ll destroy anyone else they’ll send out against us.”

“Still.” Crawford reeled Schuldig in and kissed him deeply, the sight of which made Nagi squirm and feel... something. 

“Brad, there’s a fresh bite mark on your hand.”

One sign of Crawford’s age-related decline had been his hands occasionally going stiff and unresponsive. So far, pain could wake them up again. If not for Schuldig, Schwarz wouldn’t be aware of it at all.

“I’m not dead yet,” Crawford said. “I have too many things to do.”

******************************************************

It felt like it had been such a long day. Mentally tired, Ran looked forward to being home. 

The elevator said, “Your voice print identification, please. Floor number?”

“97,” Ran replied.

“Thank you.”

Ran suddenly realized he had someone in the elevator with him and put his hand on his gun, but it was a seemingly unarmed Yoji Kudou, who said, “I wanted to see you, so I waited.”

And waited for him in the elevator for who knows how long like a stalker? But Ran needed more proof that Kudou meant him harm before getting rid of him... it, even if he... _it_ was a replicant. It made for a more uncomfortable than usual elevator ride. Agitated, Ran dropped his keycard while trying to open his apartment door.

“A bit dropsy, aren’t you? Let me help you,” Kudou said.

Ran picked up his keycard and ran it through the slot at his apartment door: “Not necessary. What do I need help for?”

Kudou said, sounding angry and anxious, “I don’t know why he told you what he did.”

“Talk to _him_.” Ran started to close the door in Kudou’s face. 

Kudou gave Ran a somewhat pleading look. “He wouldn’t see me.” 

Although Ran had misgivings and knew he’d hate whatever Kudou meant to say to him, he opened the door and let him... _it_ inside. Ran tended to be somewhat awkward in _regular_ social situations, so he had no idea how to handle this one.

He also felt self-conscious having someone in his apartment, which looked clean and neat but somewhat shabby. He had a more important thing to spend his money and time on. 

“You think I’m a replicant, don’t you?” Kudou asked.

Ran said nothing because duh.

“Look.” Kudou offered him a printed photo. “It’s me with my mother.”

“Yeah?” Ran paused. “Remember when you were eight and you and Irina went off alone together to explore an abandoned building you were warned not to go near? The two of you were going to play doctor but she changed her mind and ran off? You ever tell anybody that? Your mother, Takatori, anybody?” 

Kudou shook his head and said nothing.

“You remember the spider that lived in a bush outside your window? Orange body, green legs. Watched her build a web all summer. Then one day, there was a big egg in it. The egg hatched--”

“The egg hatched.” 

“And?”

“And a hundred baby spiders came out. And they ate her,” Kudou said softly.

“The implants. Those aren’t your memories. They’re someone else’s. They’re from Takatori’s private investigator.” A dead one, at that, although the memories had been recorded while the original Yoji Kudou was still alive. 

Also, Ran couldn’t help thinking that private investigator had to have done more for Dr. Takatori than just investigate things. People didn’t make a copy to revive some stranger who just did a little work for them.

Kudou looked upset, angry, pale, and far less polished than he had at the Takatori Corporation. Ran really should have expected that reaction, but it still made him feel a bit bad, and he wanted the replicant to stop disturbing him and get out of his home. “Okay, bad joke. I made a bad joke. You’re not a replicant. Go home. No, really. Go home.” As he said it he could tell that it came out a little too glib. He was too tired. He didn’t want to hurt Kudou but didn’t feel equipped to deal with him either.

“That Voight-Komp Test? Did you ever take that test yourself?” Kudou threw the photo down at the table and left in a huff with a dramatic swing of his luxuriant hair and long coat. 

When Ran picked up the photo and turned it over he saw a handwritten dedication from what purported to be the real Yoji Kudou’s mother. It made him wonder if she were still alive and had any idea that a thing looking like her dead son and containing his memories walked around thinking it was him. She had to be dead. Kudou might have tried to visit her otherwise, because the mother and son appeared to be affectionate with each other. The boy in the picture looked about eight years old and slightly awkward, meaning that if it were Yoji Kudou as a kid he hadn’t always been the sleek creature he’d become as an adult. 

After the explosion and fire at his family home that had killed his parents and injured his sister, Ran didn’t have many family photos aside from the printed ones he had in his wallet and what he had stored digitally on his tablet. Not much. Two years ago, but it still felt so fresh....

Troubled, Ran let the photo drop down onto the table. So much for coming home for the evening. He’d visit his sister at the hospital and reconnect with what family he had left. 

******************************************************

Nagi stood under an awning, staying as dry as possible until J.F. Sebastian came by and he _had_ to look pathetic, thankful that Crawford had foreseen the arrival time. His telekinesis could have protected him more thoroughly and better, but he had to keep a low profile. 

Did it ever stop raining on this planet? No wonder everything smelled vaguely of mold and mildew. Humans had really wrecked the place--corrupting the air, land, and water, killing almost every living thing, squandering the resources their own creator had given them--then headed out into space to ruin and strip the next place. Humanity should leave Earth totally, stop sucking on their declining mother’s withered teats. The planet might start reviving once the parasites left.

It was time to get pathetic. Nagi walked out into the rain and made a little cover of trash for himself. The rain soaked through his clothes in about a minute anyway. On schedule, J.F. Sebastian got out of the van that just pulled up. As soon as he was near the trash, Nagi played at being startled and scared and ran off in a direction where he’d deliberately hit something that would stop him from fleeing any further. 

“Hey!” J.F. Sebastian yelled to him. “You forgot your bag.”

Working to look scared and pathetic, Nagi grabbed it out of his hand and said softly, “I’m lost.”

Sebastian looked old and decrepit despite his age. Dorky and harmless. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”

“Nagi.”

“I’m J.F. Sebastian.”

“Hi.”

“Hi. Where are you going? Home?”

“I don’t have one.” Shit, J.F. Sebastian had even fewer social attributes than he did, so Nagi had to move the conversation along. “We scared each other pretty good, didn’t we?”

“We sure did.”

Nagi laughed a bit awkwardly, but J.F. Sebastian sounded at least as awkward. Nagi said, “I’m hungry, J.F.” Sebastian better have the right reply to that.

“I got some stuff inside. You want to come in?”

Score. “I was hoping you’d say that,” Nagi said with an innocent smile.

Sebastian smiled at him and turned away. Nagi’s smile disappeared. His face would start hurting if he had to keep it up for long.

The interior of the building had obviously been grand once, before the rot, water damage, grime, and trash had set in. The crumbling architecture, spaciousness, and intricate cast iron made Nagi almost wish he could have seen it in its heyday. Currently you could see bits of a nearby outdoor advertisement through some holes in the walls and ceiling as well as hear it. Nagi asked, although he already knew, “You live in this building all by yourself?” Would the apartment be in any better shape than the atrium?

“Yeah. I live here pretty much alone right now. No housing shortage around here. Plenty of room for everybody.”

These days even the poor had started going to the colonies, even if they had to get there by agreeing to basically be slaves from the moment they stepped onto the ships until the end of their lives. 

When their rickety elevator opened on Sebastian’s floor, he said, “Watch out for the water.”

Nagi tried to be Schuldig without being too Schuldig. “You must get lonely here, J.F.”

“Not really. I make friends. They’re toys. My friends are toys. I make them. It’s a hobby. I’m a genetic designer. Do you know what that is?”

“No,” Nagi answered softly, hoping he sounded sincere.

As Sebastian opened a door and walked in he called out, “Yoo-hoo! Home again!” He closed the door once Nagi followed him inside.

A walking teddy bear dressed like a soldier and a white-faced soldier with a long nose marched up and replied, “Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. Good evening, J.F.!” They were somewhat shorter than Nagi, who found them unsettling.

“Good evening, fellas,” Sebastian replied.

The two toys turned and left. As he tried to get out of the room the long-nosed soldier slammed into the corner of the doorway with an “Uhf!” before continuing on.

Sebastian laughed a bit and turned to Nagi to see if he enjoyed the... joke too. Nagi pasted a smile on even as he fumed inwardly. Damned humans, deliberately creating a flawed being just to satisfy some cheap sense of humor. From the ritualistic feeling to it, that little soldier probably ran into a wall every time Sebastian came home, which was probably at least once a day. What a horrid existence.

“They’re my friends,” Sebastian said. “I made them. Where are your folks?”

“I’m sort of an orphan.”

“Oh. What about _your_ friends?”

“I have some, but I have to find them. I’ll let them know where I am tomorrow.” The dim apartment looked shabby but spacious and dry. It felt warm. At least Nagi wouldn’t be suffering too much while he stayed here. 

“Oh. Can I take those things for you? They’re soaked, aren’t they?” 

From a lot of humans that would be a prelude to a sexual proposition, but Sebastian seemed to be honestly concerned. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. 

Nagi would watch him carefully anyway. 

******************************************************

Aya-chan slept on, as always. Seated at her bedside, Ran started to go through the replicant’s hoard of printed photos. It might be childish, but he still had the fantasy that if he seemingly ignored her while here she might regain consciousness. 

The pile had a lot of photos of children, reminding him of Kudou’s shot of what purported to be him as a child with his mother. Children were fascinating to replicants, who, born adult or nearly so and immediately sent to work, never got to experience childhood. These pictures didn’t help Ran’s case though, so he flipped to the ones of Schwarz. In one, the pleasure model sat on a bed looking at the photographer with an amused smile and expression on his face, one hand beckoning, very attractive. In another he was sleeping curled up on the bed as the berserker, looking thoughtful and placid, petted his hair, the last thing anyone would expect--or want--from a berserker. It left Ran feeling very unsettled.

In his head he could imagine Birman saying, “Looking at these, you might think they were human. You’d be wrong.”

Ran appreciated the irony that empathy supposedly differentiated humans from replicants but he had to suppress any empathy to hunt them. He wondered if any of the Blade Runners would pass a Voight-Komp test.

His cell phone beeped, with the call coming from a private channel he associated with Persia, who rarely called him. When he picked up, the image of Persia’s shadowed figure appeared and said, “Progress report.”

“I have promising leads I’ll follow up soon.”

“Perhaps we haven’t impressed upon you how important and urgent this case is.” 

“I’ve already put long hours on it today.”

“Skinjobs don’t keep 9 to 5 hours, so neither should you. You weren’t this lazy when Hidaka was your partner. Get on it immediately.”

“...yes, sir.”

“We need those five replicants put down.”

Wait, what? “Four. There’s four.”

“There’s five. That skinjob you VK’ed at the Takatori Corporation, Yoji, disappeared, vanished. Didn’t even know he was a replicant. Something to do with a brain implant.”

Damn it. If Kudou hadn’t run off, he might not have been put on the kill list. “...five. Yes, sir,” Ran replied. 

Persia ended the call. 

Shaking his head, Ran took Aya’s hand in his and said, “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

Sometimes he thought she was the lucky one. 

******************************************************

When he took the scale to an expert he knew, she told him that it was a snake scale and that not many people would be able to afford the snake, then gave him the name of its creator. When rational discourse failed on its creator, Ran grabbed and threatened him until he got the name and location of the snake’s buyer, “Taffey Lewis’, down in first sector, Chinatown.” Ran preferred _not_ to act like a thug, but investigations often demanded it of him.

Taffey Lewis, proprietor of the bar, was _not_ helpful and just gave Ran a pitying look when he tried to intimidate him, which didn’t surprise Ran. Taffey Lewis ran all kinds of vice out of this location with impunity. Ran had long suspected that Lewis had ties to someone in the LAPD that protected him. 

“Lou, get him a drink on the house,” Taffey Lewis said before he walked off. 

Ran didn’t drink but accepted it anyway to try to fit in better while he investigated the place on his own. This really wasn’t his crowd, there were too many people packed in here, jostling him, and the place stank of alcohol, various smoking substances, and other unsavory things. About twenty interminable and unproductive minutes later, a man announced, “Taffey Lewis presents Adam and the Snake. Watch him be seduced by and take pleasure from the serpent that once corrupted man.”

 _This_ sounded promising. But he could only watch the stage show for about three minutes before he had to look away with his face as red as his hair. There wasn’t enough bleach in the _world_ to clean those images out of his head. 

Unfortunately, he still had to _listen_ to the whole routine until the pleasure model left the stage and he could approach him. 

******************************************************

As he approached Schuldig, Ran built up and radiated a false identity and personality, otherwise his resistance to telepathy would make him seem mentally invisible. That invisibility was useful in many situations but if he talked to a telepath while obviously there yet not there it would ring alarm bells. 

Given a choice, Ran didn’t come up close to kill replicants, especially not ones who had an A physical level. It might seem cowardly to take them out at a distance like an assassin, but it kept him alive against beings that had the strength and physical near-invulnerability of super-villains. Blade Runners used very powerful guns and explosive rounds to try to make up for that. Unfortunately, Persia had made it very clear that he didn’t have the time to set up more opportune conditions.

The snake, thankfully _cleaned_ after Schuldig went offstage, moved around the replicant’s neck and atop his shoulders, a welcome distraction to Ran’s eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at everything else Schuldig’s glitter-dusted naked body openly displayed, like the sizable erection. The glitter, painted on to look like snake scales, and gems had been silver at the start of the act but turned red and gold by the end. Schuldig’s long hair had been slicked back and pulled into a single braid, the end of which bounced against the top of his taut ass as he walked. 

“May I talk to you?” Ran asked, concentrating on seeming oily, awkward, and somewhat perverted. “I’m from the American Federation of Variety Artists.”

“Oh yeah?”

He followed Schuldig into what appeared to be a dressing room. “I’m not here to make you join. Not my department.” He closed the door for privacy, hopeful that his good fortune would continue. “I’m from the Confidential Committee of Moral Abuses.”

Schuldig sounded incredulous and somewhat sarcastic as he asked, “Committee of Moral Abuses?”

“There have been some reports that the management has taken liberties with the artists in this place.”

“I know nothing about it.”

“Have you felt yourself to be exploited in any way?”

“How do you mean, exploited?” Schuldig asked, smirking.

“Well, like to get this job. Did you do or were you asked to do anything that’s lewd or unsavory or otherwise repulsive to, to your person?” It took Ran some effort to keep a straight face, so he concentrated on being his character.

Schuldig laughed and sounded amused and annoyed. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah. I’d like to check your dressing room, if I may. Is this one yours?”

“Check for what?” 

“For, uhm, holes.”

“ _Holes_?” Schuldig removed the snake from his shoulders and set it on some sort of stand.

“You’d be surprised what people will go through to get a glimpse of a beautiful body.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He walked off into what seemed to be a shower area.

Ran tried not to notice the flexing of his tight, pert ass, but at least the water sounds would disguise some of the noises Ran might make as he checked the room and the snake over. Talking would too. “Little dirty holes they drill in the walls so they can watch someone undress.”

“Why would they need to do that when I’m out onstage wearing nothing but glitter, stick-on jewels, and a snake?”

Think fast. “For some people it’s the thrill of the forbidden and a feeling of power from seeing a person when he or she doesn’t want to be seen and doesn’t know about it.”

Schuldig laughed. “That’s pretty good.”

Ran, checking out the snake with the magnifying function on his phone, found scales matching the one he had, with the same serial number, and took a photo in extreme zoom. While Blade Runners were almost a law unto themselves, they still needed to have evidence in case a review happened later. “Is this a real snake?”

“Of course it’s not real. Do you think I’d be working in a place like this if I could afford a real snake?”

“Is it a registered proctologist?” Ran couldn’t help asking. After Schuldig snorted at that, Ran continued, “I want to make sure this establishment is keeping worker safety in mind, especially considering where this snake goes.”

The water sounds stopped, and Schuldig walked out, his hair blown dry and fluffy now, wearing skintight low-rise red vinyl pants with the fly only partially zipped, a clear plastic jacket over his otherwise bare arms and torso, and black combat boots. Somehow it seemed worse to Ran than the earlier nudity. Schuldig still had some remaining glitter glistening on his naked chest. “So if somebody does try to exploit me, who do I go to?”

His character would take a good look and come closer, so Ran had to as well. “Me.”

Schuldig’s smile and eyes showed none of the warmth visible in that photograph. “You’re a dedicated man. Zip me up.”

Although he hated it, Ran knew he’d have to get closer and readied himself to go in for the kill. He couldn’t take any more chances here.

The attack came at Ran so fast that his brain struggled to figure out what was going on aside from _pain_. His back hurt, his head hurt, he was in the _air_ , now he was down on the floor, he had hands squeezing his neck, cutting off his ability to breathe or think.... “Pome--” He couldn’t even get the safe word out, if it would even work. The edges of his vision went dark. He struggled and tried to fight back, but Schuldig was too strong and too impervious to his barehanded blows. The pleasure model looked down at him with an enraged yet also confused expression on his face as he _squeezed_.... 

The anger increased but gained an edge of desperation. Schuldig pushed him down at the floor, head-first, _hard_. Ran struggled hard enough--punching, kicking, and writhing--to get loose a little, and the pleasure model let go of him and pushed through a crowd of newly arriving performers to get out the door. 

Those performers had just saved Ran’s life. Too bad he’d have to pursue his would-be killer and possibly get himself murdered.

Winded, coughing, but not feeling as spent and hurt as he thought he should’ve been--an A physical level replicant should have easily crushed his windpipe--Ran got his gun in his hand and ran after Schuldig. When he reached the sidewalk, pedestrians were nearly throwing themselves in his way. Damned telepathy. Schuldig could also command people to get out of _his_ way. Ran hated going after the older, more experienced, and thus trickier telepaths. He fought his way through, but the human obstacles slowed him down and he didn’t want to seriously hurt innocent bystanders. In the chaos of rain, dense flood of people, and din of cars and loud “walk, don’t walk” announcements, he had trouble figuring out where his prey had gone. If Schuldig escaped him, Schwarz would find out about him and might hunt _him_ down. 

A fist suddenly came out of the crowd and hit his face like a freight train. He actually went _blind_ for a moment before coming to lying on his back on the wet, slick sidewalk, in so much pain he could barely think. Had he heard something crunch in his face? He realized that he’d lost his gun on the way down. Farfarello grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up before slamming him into the side of a nearby parked truck. 

Farfarello punched him in the side of head before asking, “How old am I?”

Like hell he could remember under these conditions. “I don’t know.” At least the cool rain washed the blood out of his eyes. 

“How long do I live?”

Everything hurt so much. “Ten years.” Ran kicked at him but, of course, he didn’t seem to notice.

Farfarello smiled, which made the scars on his face seem to skew crazier, and held Ran up by the throat one-handed. Ran’s feet didn’t touch the ground. “More than you.” Farfarello held a long knife up to Ran’s face before shoving it into his left side, one more horrible source of pain, and pulling it out. “Painful to live in fear, isn’t it?” His smile looked savagely happy. “Wake up. Time to die.”

Ran heard a gun go off seconds before a bullet skimmed the left side of Farfarello’s head and took off part of Farfarello’s upper ear, splattering Ran’s face with more red. From the sound and power, it could have come from Ran’s gun. Farfarello let go of Ran as he dodged the next one. Ran hit the ground like a bag of potatoes but managed to protect his head and rolled under the truck to try to protect the rest of his body. He heard the gun go off again but didn’t come out until Farfarello ran off. 

Yoji Kudou, holding Ran’s gun, crouched down next to him. Wet, he looked a lot less put together but no less attractive. “Shit, man, you need a hospital. He was throwing you around like you were a toy.”

“You’re looking pretty calm for a guy who just shot someone,” Ran replied. He did _not_ look forward to the LAPD taking witness accounts of all this. Hopefully being soaking wet made Kudou less obviously Kudou.

“I was trying to _kill_ him but he was too fast. Hey, I used to investigate some shady people and needed to be able to protect myself, and sometimes Takatori needs things done.”

“Give me my gun back.”

“Hospital.”

“Blade Runners don’t go to the hospital for on-the-job injuries. There’s a medic back at the station who decides whether we’re hurt too seriously for his abilities, and you shouldn’t go there and you definitely shouldn’t be holding on to my gun.” 

“For all Blade Runners or just you?”

Weird question. “All of us. I don’t get injured on the job often, though. You do realize that I’ve been told to hunt you down and kill you? I won’t do it, because I owe you for this, but you need to get out of sight and away from me while we’re in public. Thanks for getting him off me, by the way.”

Although he still looked concerned, Kudou grinned and handed over the gun. “Sure.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“You’re not the guy who fucked me over, just the socially awkward guy who discovered it for me. Besides, it turns out we have some things in common.” 

“What?”

“Go get yourself patched up. You’re leaking all over the place.” 

“My spinner is nearby. I’ll drop you off at my apartment,” hopefully no one would think to look for the replicant there, “then I’ll go see the medic. Let’s get out of here.” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

******************************************************

“You’re better than this,” Crawford said. 

“No kidding,” Farfarello answered as Schuldig cleaned and patched up the side of his head, then wrapped a gauze bandage around it. “I didn’t expect someone else to pick up the Blade Runner’s weapon and shoot me from behind. Didn’t hear it in the crowd noise and rain until it was almost upon me. At least I fully dodged the other shots.” 

“Besides, Farf followed your orders,” Schuldig said. “He could’ve gone on a total homicidal rampage but didn’t, so he didn’t make a giant splash to the humans and he’s still alive and free and able to report back. Anyway, _I_ have really important information for you that I picked up eavesdropping while Farf beat the shit out of the Blade Runner.”

“I did all that to give you the chance to run away, not to stick around and keep yourself at risk,” Farfarello said. “Ungrateful creature. I lost part of my ear and more of my beauty for your sake.”

Schuldig kissed his nose. “You’re still beautiful to me, Farfie.” 

“Hush, you.”

“Brad, the Blade Runner is a replicant.” 

That couldn’t be right. “What?” Crawford replied. Yet it made a kind of twisted sense.

“That would explain why my blows didn’t kill him,” Farfarello said. “I hit him _hard_. Many, many times. Shoved a very long and sharp blade into him as well.”

Schuldig nodded. “Also why my hits and attempted strangling didn’t kill him either. Even more, I couldn’t read his mind or blast it. Even the people I’m blocked against mindreading or -blasting register as being _there_ , but this guy is invisible, null, unless he _tries_ to have something register.” 

“How can he be that resistant to telepathy?” Crawford asked.

“I know it was something built into him by our creators but not how they developed it. I had to find out all of this from the guy who shot Farf, who’s _also_ a replicant. _His_ mind I can read. We’re fortunate that he’s a very emphatically _ex_ -employee of the Takatori Corporation so the block didn’t work as well. Thing is, the Blade Runner doesn’t know what he is and the other guy didn’t either until recently. Takatori gave each of them a whole life of human memories to fool them. He gave the Blade Runner a longer life too.”

Crawford couldn’t entirely process how he felt about this. It made him angry and resentful _and_ gave him hope. “How long?”

“Kudou saw the Blade Runner’s file, which estimates his life at about 15 years, possibly more since he’s so experimental. Kudou doesn’t know his own life span. But we already knew that replicants don’t have to be as short-lived as we are.”

“We just don’t know whether ones who were designed and made with the shorter life span can be fixed. It better be possible, or Takatori will regret it.”

“I can’t do much more for Farf. Nagi could though.”

“It’s about time we pushed J.F. Sebastian to see what he can do for us anyway. We’ll pay him a visit and get Nagi back. Schuldig, put a shirt on before we go so Sebastian won’t get a heart attack.” Across their link he said, ~ You never get all the glitter and shimmer off. It’s deliberate, isn’t it? ~

Schuldig smiled. ~ You know me too well. I like to highlight what you’re getting. ~ 

~ I appreciate it. ~

Schuldig sounded worried as he asked, ~ Do you know how much time you have left, Brad? ~ 

~ No. I haven’t been able to foresee much recently either. ~ He just foresaw engulfing fire, without context, which sounded dire yet too vague for him to share with Schuldig. ~ Don’t worry about me. I’m in no hurry to leave you. ~

“What should we do with Kudou and Blade Runner Fujimiya if they keep coming at us?” Schuldig asked aloud.

“Get as much information for our cause as you can, turn them to our cause if you can, but if they become too much of a problem, kill them.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Farfarello said. “I don’t like getting shot in the head.”

“Farf, I have yet to meet anyone who does. Brad, I’m thinking of replacing Farf’s eyepatch with a gauze square, to make it look like his eye was injured at the same time as his head. It’ll make him less instantly recognizable at least.”

“Good idea. Do it.” 

Schuldig had been created to have a B mental level, yet he was so much smarter than that, proof that replicants could transcend the limitations their creators had put on them. They had to be capable of beating their death sentences as well. 

Crawford fully intended to _rage_ against the dying of the light, but knowing that Schuldig could run Schwarz in his absence gave him some small comfort.

******************************************************

“A _civilian_ had to save your life,” Botan said as the medic worked on Ran. Thankfully, he hadn’t said anything about eyewitness reports suggesting that said civilian was a Nexus 6 replicant on Ran’s hit list. Ran had already thoroughly wiped down his service weapon in case anyone checked it.

“I’m no more happy about it than you are,” Ran answered. He wondered why Kudou had put himself at risk to save his life like this. He wondered what Kudou might get into left alone in Ran’s apartment, but where else could he stash him? “Though I have to remind you that _I_ didn’t think I was ready to resume this job.”

“Don’t try to be cute.”

“Schuldig was using his telepathy strategically, and they’re working as a _team_ , which is something I rarely face. They didn’t take down an entire military ship out of luck. They’re smart, strong, and dangerous, while your accelerated schedule is making it impossible for me to strategize and pick them off from a distance like I usually do. So until you go out there yourself to face them in hand to hand combat and have them beat and stab you I don’t think--”

“You’re not here to _think_. We want results. Remember what you have at stake.”

Aya-chan. “Yeah.” Botan didn’t want to hear that Ran was lucky to be alive. 

Actually, Ran had to wonder how he’d survived at all. Two A physical level replicants had tried to take him out yet not only was he still alive but he was also well enough to go out and try to kill them again. He’d gotten stabbed. He hurt like hell, but he should be much worse off. His throat should be crushed. He should have broken bones and a concussion. What the hell? 

A lot of people would just figure they were tougher than they thought and see it as a victory. Ran couldn’t. 

When the medic finished applying the bandage he said, “Come in daily for _me_ to change the bandage, the usual way.” Water-resistant, the bandage wouldn’t suck in water and get ruined when Ran washed. “ _Don’t_ mess with it yourself. If it starts to look too bloody, come in.” 

“I know,” Ran replied.

“I know you have some trouble following orders so I wanted to make sure we were clear.”

The only time Ran got compliments on the job was after he killed someone. 

******************************************************

It was driving Yoji crazy to wait for the Blade Runner to get home so he could spill his news and see how the guy reacted. He probably wouldn’t react _well_ but.... 

In the meantime, Yoji snooped around the apartment. Old habits died hard. He’d already secretly gone through Takatori’s files and used a gun again today.

He felt nervous, afraid, and angry but damn it if he didn’t also feel more alive than he had in a long time. After Asuka’s death he’d been full of grief and a desperate need to kill the pain. Numbness, when he’d achieved it, had been a blessing.

After all that, with _her_ gone, he _couldn’t_ be a PI anymore, so he’d taken Takatori’s offer to be his right-hand man. It paid well, provided a routine, and let him just drift through life. 

...when had the switch between the original and him been made? Now he couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Takatori had massaged his brain or personality at some point to _make_ him take the job. Fuck him.

Fujimiya didn’t have much in his apartment, and that counted Yoji looking for any hidden safe or secret stashes of things. Aside from his cool long black coat, Fujimiya apparently owned only faded, boring, somewhat baggy, off-trend clothing, as if he’d given up a few years ago. Given what Yoji had read in that bio about the set-up with Fujimiya’s sister, the leash they’d put on Fujimiya, it made sense, but he couldn’t help thinking it was wrong to hide what seemed to be a decent body under that crap. At least the tragic fashion didn’t take away from Fujimiya’s unusual beauty. If Yoji had to throw his lot in with the guy, he’d like to at least have some eye candy. 

Although he’d brought a small suitcase of clothing, he didn’t really want to rummage through it now, and he saw nothing of Fujimiya’s he wanted to borrow and wear while his own clothes dried. Yoji currently walked around the apartment in just his pants. He’d managed to neaten up his hair from drowned rat to simply wavier and curlier than usual. Too bad he couldn’t simultaneously wield an umbrella and a gun well; Fujimiya no doubt wore a hood while outside to let him shoot.

He found a lot of photos lying around, including one set in a frame, of the real Fujimiya siblings. The Ran Fujimiya Yoji had met seemed incapable of smiling like that. Had Fujimiya--replicant him--ever been capable?

Yoji had to smile himself at the irony that a replicant given a human range of memories to make it more human behaved a lot like the stereotype of a regular replicant.

Yoji ducked down and took cover behind the couch as he heard the apartment door open and wished he had a weapon. Once the door closed, Fujimiya called out, “Hello?” From the sound of things, he’d returned alone. 

Yoji stood up. “Hey.” It amazed him that Fujimiya had taken such a beating but only had light bruising visible in a few places. Yoji’s body hadn’t been made that tough. 

Fujimiya took his waterproofed coat off and hung it in the bathroom to drip dry. Finding the hole in it, he murmured, “I could patch this with electrical tape....”

What? “Do you have _any_ respect for clothing?” From the rest of what he had on, Fujimiya didn’t. He wore slightly baggy brown pants with a faded and currently blood-stained plaid button-down shirt that had a collar that had been on-trend two years ago.

“Other things matter more. _You’ve_ made yourself comfortable.”

Yoji wiggled his bare toes at him. “My stuff was soaked. You should get into something dry yourself.” 

“Hnh.” Fujimiya unbuttoned and took his stained shirt with the stab hole in it off, revealing arms and a torso that definitely shouldn’t be hidden under baggy, unflattering clothes. The bandage wrapped around his midsection covered some of his abs but the visible ones were _nice_. He splashed some water on his face to wash off some dried blood. His matter of fact attitude about all that said a lot about the life he led. 

What Yoji had to tell him would change that life forever.

Fujimiya walked into the bedroom and left the door open only a crack. Whatever, since Yoji already knew from the files that the real Fujimiya had been born a redhead. Fujimiya asked, “Do you want a drink? I don’t have any alcohol but--” 

“I know.”

“...you _have_ been busy.”

Yoji wouldn’t spring the news on the guy while he was half or mostly naked, so he needed to make conversation for a little bit. “The spinner ride was great, by the way. Why do cops get to have all the fun?”

“I hear that. I missed it when I left the force for a month.”

“I saw the katana.” 

“I don’t use it in the field. Kendo is the closest I get to meditation these days.”

“Why are you people called ‘Blade Runners’ when you mostly seem to use guns on the job?”

“Why do people park in driveways and drive on parkways? I don’t know.”

“...you’re cuter than you initially seem.”

“...thank you? Please don’t touch the katana; it’s one of the few things I have left from my favorite mentor.” Fujimiya walked out in black jeans faded to a charcoal gray and an old, faded black T-shirt with a stretched neck, both of which still fit him better than the crap he originally had on. 

Yoji had to restrain the urge to take it off him, but he still had to say, “You really don’t dress to impress anyone.”

“You just saw me bloody and beaten down, so what’s the point?” Fujimiya sat down and said, “I guess it was lucky for me that you were nearby and willing to help me.”

Yoji sat down next to him. “I was glad to run into you, though I would’ve come here if I hadn’t seen you in the street first.”

“Why? We didn’t part on good terms after our last meeting, and it’s my profession to hunt you down and kill you.”

“It’s related to that. I know a bit of hacking, so I tried to find my bio data at the Takatori Corporation--”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Hell, yes, but I have to know. My incept date.”

“You’re almost three years old,” Fujimiya said suddenly. “Takatori didn’t set an expiration date into you, at least not according to the information he gave me.”

Yoji felt like he’d been kicked in the chest but also almost felt like crying in gratitude at the same time. He did neither. “...thanks. But I didn’t know that earlier, and I _needed_ to know, so I went looking. As you might figure, there was a ton of security around my real information, and I kept failing to break through it, so I tried ways around it instead.” He couldn’t think of an easy, safe way to break the news, so.... “During that I found information on you. A bio that said... that you’re an experimental kind of replicant, along the lines of what I am on the memory front, but stronger and more difficult to injure, more like an A physical level, and with an experimental anti-psychic talent ability. You’re based on the memories of an actual Ran Fujimiya who left Earth with his sister Aya not long after their parents were killed.”

For a moment Fujimiya said nothing, just stared at him, before replying, “What kind of game are you playing? Why the hell would I believe this shit? Do you really think you can get me to protect you if you make me believe this?” His voice sounded thick and choked, and he appeared to be barely restraining himself from grabbing Yoji and hurting him.

“Because it’s true. Because it makes sense of things, like how you survived that psycho’s attacks on you. Because Takatori and the LAPD have been _using_ you for years, and you should know it so you can free yourself.”

“Is my sister supposed to be a replicant too?”

“That ‘girl’ in a hospital bed is just a leash on you. She won’t ever ‘wake up’ because she wouldn’t be any use to them if she did, so they only gave her enough function to pass as a comatose girl. She’s basically a doll with the mental capacity of a lightbulb. All the doctors and nurses who care for her are in on it, which is why they made sure you wouldn’t move her to another hospital.” 

Fujimiya suddenly had a chokehold on his neck. “You don’t say _anything_ about my sister! Not _anything_! You don’t know what I’ve done to protect her!”

Yoji managed to gasp out, “That was exactly why they did what they did, to keep you under their thumb. Your real sister is out in space somewhere, walking around coma-free. She has her brother with her. If she knew she had a Ran down here, she wouldn’t want him to be forced to do the things you’ve had to do. You don’t have to take my word for it: I loaded everything to my tablet!”

“ _Where_?”

“In my coat. You’ll need to keep me alive to see the data since you have to input a code to unlock it _and_ don’t know how I organize things on my tablet.” The moment Fujimiya let him go Yoji took a deep and wonderful breath of air and kept on breathing. “Thanks. That’s gonna leave a bruise, you asshole.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t understand my reaction,” Fujimiya answered as he ransacked Yoji’s coat, got the tablet, and brought it to Yoji, handing it over with an emphatic “Show me.”

Yoji opened the file and handed the tablet over. “Enjoy.” 

“I... I want to look at it alone. Make yourself comfortable out here.” Fujimiya retreated to his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. 

Yoji sat on the couch and let his hand rest lightly on his neck. Fujimiya wasn’t anywhere near pretty enough to be worth this kind of pain. If things didn’t get better soon, Yoji would cut his losses and try going it alone. 

******************************************************

Ran didn’t want to believe it, but the data and his bio knew things about him _no one_ could know, just as they had for Kudou--life so enjoyed throwing Ran’s words back in his face--and it made past events and things said to him by various people make more sense. It certainly explained how he’d gotten through Schuldig and Farfarello’s vicious attacks with so little damage, and he’d always wondered what the odds were that someone would become a Blade Runner and then find out he had a rare resistance to the replicants’ telepathy and precognition. Persia, Birman, and Manx had always demanded more of him than of the other Blade Runners and on far less food and sleep. They’d obviously figured that he barely had emotions. 

Although Botan probably hadn’t known because Ran couldn’t see him managing to keep his mouth shut about it while working with a “skinjob.”

Ken Hidaka had been paired with Ran to keep an eye on him and report back. Considering how prickly their relationship had been, Ran didn’t understand why he felt so hurt hearing this. Had they paired Tsukiyono with him for the same reason?

But what the bio had to say about Aya... he couldn’t believe it. Didn’t know if he wanted to believe it. But if it were true then all the doctors and nurses he’d put up with over the years must have been laughing at him behind his back. Every time he’d begged them to try some new way of trying to get her to wake up they must have been amused as hell since there was no possible way for her to wake up. Look at the deluded thing arguing on behalf of an inert thing _designed_ to be an inert thing, thinking that it and the other it are alive and deserve a full human life. 

Look at the deluded thing we fooled into destroying other things like it for us.

Ran wanted all the people who’d used him and probably laughed at him to die slowly and painfully, preferably at his hands. 

Even if he believed what the bio said about Aya, he couldn’t see him pulling the plug on her, taking the horrible chance that it wouldn’t kill her. She was his _sister_. 

The actual Ran and Aya Fujimiya lived somewhere in the off-world colonies. He couldn’t help trying to imagine it.... Did that Ran feel self-pity, thinking having dead parents was the worst thing that could happen, not knowing how precious his time with his sister really was? Did he have any idea what had been done with the memory recordings he’d agreed to give Dr. Takatori, had he known when he’d agreed to it? 

Should he get a visit from his bloody-handed namesake to find out? At the very least, Ran desperately wanted to see and talk to Aya, spend time with her, hear her laugh again.... How would she react to meeting a copy of her brother, one who’d become a killer at that?

Like he’d ever earn the money necessary to go off-world. And any indentured servitude contract he signed to get a ticket off Earth would prevent him from doing or going anywhere on his own for _years_. 

If he believed the information in that bio, he was actually only a little over two years old. 

Ran didn’t want to believe what he’d read, what it meant for him and her and _them_. He wished he’d never seen this file. He wished he could deny it all and just go on. He didn’t know what to do.

Ran felt so ill and twisted up inside, dizzy, panicked, and claustrophobic. He wanted to throw up; he wanted to beat his head against the wall; he wanted to fall asleep and escape. More than anything, he wanted to stop thinking or feeling. 

“Hey, man, are you okay in here?” Kudou asked from the other side of the door. 

Ran, who didn’t know if he’d ever be okay again, replied, “Nothing you have to worry about.” 

Kudou opened the door, walked in, and sat next to him on the bed uninvited anyway. At least he’d put his shirt back on. During their first meeting Kudou had been groomed and primped, perfect, unattainable, but he looked more natural now. 

If their bios were true, “natural” had nothing to do with either of them.

“You probably see this as justice,” Ran said, sick and weary.

“A little bit, but I also don’t think anybody should be alone when they find out about this and have to work their way through it.”

“You were.”

“Exactly.” 

“If you want me to feel guilty, you should know that I already do.”

To Ran’s surprise, Kudou put an arm around him and pulled him in close to lean against him and his warmth. Ran struggled a bit, twitching, unaccustomed to anyone trying to touch him in a way that wasn’t meant to hurt or control him, but Kudou currently had more strength on tap than he did and thus won, so Ran surrendered. 

The bio speculated that Ran showed only normal human strength instead of A level physical strength because he believed himself human.

“I’m a bigger man than that,” Kudou said.

“Now that I know all this, what do you expect me to do? Because I have no ideas beyond bloody vengeance.”

“You’re truly a ray of sunshine.”

“I’m not kidding. I want to murder them all.” They’d trained and shaped him to be a killer, so let them see what he’d learned. They thought him inhuman, so let him be inhuman while dispatching them. “If I leave and stop working for them, they’ll chase and try to hunt me down anyway, so I might as well get some small personal satisfaction.”

“I understand wanting Dr. Takatori to pay, but who else?” 

It amused Ran that Kudou didn’t sound disgusted by his bloodlust. “Many people who put me to work as a Blade Runner deserve to die.”

It still struck him as strange, and he didn’t understand the motives involved. Why would Dr. Takatori create a product designed to destroy his other products? Quality control? To try to kill bad PR before it happened? Why would Persia take a chance on an experimental product designed and supplied by the man who made the things Blade Runners hunted down? The odds of the experimental prototype being sent into the LAPD for sabotage had to have been huge.

“You know, once I knew exactly what I was looking for, I was able to track down the tickets for Ran and Aya Fujimiya. They left for space on the Rosenkreuz four days after their parents’ deaths, paid up by Dr. Takatori. That’s suspiciously fast, and the Fujimiya kids didn’t even sign an indentured servitude contract for it. Having worked with the man for years, I can tell you that he doesn’t have a charitable bone in his body. Getting a memory recording from Ran wouldn’t be enough to pay for their trip, so Takatori must have had a reason to get them out of the way and get them that _far_ out of the way. I mean, if he just didn’t want you to possibly run into them he could have sent them somewhere still on _this_ planet to live.”

“You’re suggesting he might have had something to do with my parents’ deaths and the destruction of our home?” If Takatori had, if he _had_.... “I already want him dead just for what he did to me, so you don’t have to bait the hook even further.” 

Kudou might have screwed himself over with this though, because now that Ran had that suspicion in his head he wanted to interrogate Dr. Takatori before he killed him. 

Kudou shrugged, then he stroked Ran’s arm in a way that he might have intended to be soothing. It did feel really nice. “I’m just saying that I developed instincts as a detective and the situation stinks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Kudou.”

“Call me ‘Yoji,’ and I’ll call you ‘Ran.’”

“Fine. I don’t have any strong feelings about it either way.”

Kudou... Yoji gave him a wry look. 

Ran said, “I’m sorry for going for your throat like that earlier. It’s just... what you brought me and what you said it means for my sister.... Still, I went overboard.”

“No, I get it. I wanted to completely deny it and hurt somebody when I found out what I was too.” Way too easy-going.

“...what do you want from me... Yoji? I don’t understand you.”

“I can’t just--?”

“No. Nobody is like that. Everyone has an angle.”

“Maybe I’m different, Ran.”

Ran had stopped believing in fairy tales long ago. No white knight would step in to help him, and he was no white knight who could save his sister.

They stared at each other for a few minutes before Yoji said, “All right, I _would_ like some things from you, but it’s not like I intend to _use_ you.”

“Thanks for the honesty. It’s refreshing and rare.”

“You have a really dark view of life, don’t you?”

“And I was proven correct here.”

Suddenly Yoji pulled him in close and _hugged_ him, something Ran didn’t expect or know how to deal with. It didn’t help that Kudou never seemed to be in the same mood twice when they met. At the Takatori Corporation, Kudou had looked down on him, higher class down at lower class, white collar to blue collar. When Kudou came to Ran’s apartment the first time, he’d been desperate, afraid, and later angry. What now? 

“I hope this isn’t because you think we’re the same rare thing, replicants with memory implants,” Ran said. 

“Of course that’s part of it. How many people can I really talk to about this? But it’s also because you’re hot.”

“That’s not funny.”

Yoji either didn’t understand or pretended not to. “What isn’t?”

Ran pulled away but couldn’t completely remove himself from Yoji’s grip, not without hurting him, something Ran wasn’t willing to do yet. “That thing about being hot. I already said I was sorry.”

“I... what?”

“I know what I look like.”

“Apparently you don’t, because I’m sorry to tell you this but you are hot. If you didn’t sound so serious, I’d think you were fishing for compliments.”

“I’m not.” Ran didn’t know what to do here or how to react, feeling as if he were floundering out in deep, dark waters, lost and trying not to drown. 

“So I want to talk with you and fuck you. Connections have been formed with less.” 

Then Yoji kissed him, soft and searching, very little pressure, more him lightly massaging Ran’s lips with his. Ran couldn’t understand why it felt good and made him want to close his eyes and reciprocate. His body settled for reciprocating the kiss and half-closing his eyes without him giving it permission. Yoji chuckled, a hum against Ran’s mouth, and deepened the kiss and thus the sensations. He remembered making out with a girl once but that had been ages ago, another life ago, and left him unprepared for this. Being held and kissed like this gave Ran such an _ache_ inside.

It’d be so nice if someone actually cared about him, but he knew that Yoji intended to use him just like everyone else. 

When Yoji took a good look at Ran’s face he let go and pulled away, saying, “I’m... sorry. I’ll be right outside when you’re... yeah,” as he left the room. 

Confused, disappointed, grateful, Ran went to the mirror and saw fresh tear tracks on his face. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying. It left him ashamed but also with a terrible case of somewhat insane giggling. Who knew tears could be such a powerful defensive weapon? 

******************************************************

Sprawled on the couch, Yoji lit up a cigarette and tried to calm his body down. That had been a surprise. Yeah. He figured he’d give Fujimiya some time to get himself back together and hoped like hell he wouldn’t need help doing it. Yoji would go slower and more cautiously in the future.

It always made him feel helpless when he saw someone, especially a pretty someone, crying. He didn’t know if Ran being a stranger instead of a friend or lover made it better or worse.

After 25 minutes Yoji tired of waiting. Figuring that he’d given Ran enough time to do whatever he needed to, Yoji walked into the bedroom... and found Ran in what appeared to be in an exhausted, unplanned sleep, something Yoji probably should have expected after seeing him get his ass handed to him by that killer replicant. He looked younger this way, as well as innocent and fragile. Yoji laid a blanket over him and then took the other side of the bed himself, on top of the blanket, deciding to sleep through what would probably be a boring time waiting for Fujimiya to wake up. 

******************************************************

J.F. Sebastian sure slept a lot. Nagi didn’t mind much though, since it meant less time he’d have to be social and possibly protect his virtue and more time working on productive things. He’d just finished his most recent bomb, having brought components with him in case he had free time. 

~ Sweetness, we’re approaching the building. See you soon, ~ Schuldig said telepathically. 

~ Okay. ~ Nagi put the bomb in his bag and prepared another performance for his audience of one.

As Nagi approached Sebastian, who looked even older asleep, the soldier doll that had greeted them at the door gave him some very nervous looks. Nagi grinned at it and enjoyed how its trembling increased. Apparently it recognized a predator better than its creator did. 

Sebastian awoke and looked startled at Nagi’s closeness then looked somewhat uncomfortable as he saw what Nagi wore. Nagi had changed into an old prep school uniform: white button-down shirt with a navy blue blazer, slacks, and tie. The blazer had a school crest embroidered on it, and Nagi had left the tie loose and collar unbuttoned around his neck. The ensemble quietly insinuated a fetish instead of screamed it. Nagi didn’t know where the hell Schuldig got this stuff and didn’t want to ask.

Nagi concentrated on seeming innocent and young. “Good morning. How old _are_ you?” he asked, striving to sound concerned instead of rude.

“25,” Sebastian answered, not offended.

“What’s your problem?”

“Methuselah syndrome.”

“What’s that?” Nagi already knew but figured he’d set the stage for Schwarz’s talk with him.

“My glands... they grow old too fast.”

“Is that why you’re still on Earth?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t pass the medical. Anyway, I kind of like it here.”

Nagi smiled, simulating sunny innocence. “I like you... just the way you are.”

J.F. smiled back, very pleased. It didn’t take much.

Feeling them at the doorway, Nagi called out, “Hi, Brad, Schuldig!”

Sebastian jumped, startled, and turned to see them.

Grinning, Schuldig said, “Gosh, you’ve really got some nice toys here.” While Crawford wore a simple suit, Schuldig wore low-rise, skintight red vinyl pants, a skintight black shirt with sleeves that attached to it by straps and clips, black faux leather boots laced up to his knees, and a clear plastic jacket, a toned down ensemble by Schuldig’s standards. 

Nagi said, “This is the friend I was telling you about. This is my savior, J.F. Sebastian.” They’d tell him where Farfarello was hiding soon enough.

“Sebastian,” Crawford said, trying for warm friendliness and not quite nailing it. “I like a man that stays put. You live here all by yourself, do you?”

“Yes,” Sebastian answered.

Schuldig let go of his cozy grip on Crawford’s arm to come to Nagi to give him a tight hug and kiss his forehead. When he started to kiss his way down the slope of Nagi’s nose, presumably to end up at his mouth, Sebastian leaped up to say, “How about some breakfast? I was just going to make some,” and left the room in a hurry. 

~ Where’s Farfarello? ~ Nagi asked. 

Schuldig stopped smirking. ~ Just outside the front door of the apartment since we figured he’d scare the living shit out of J.F. He would normally anyway, but he got some battle damage on his head that we’ve wrapped up with bandages. He needs your artist’s touch. He can wait until we get J.F. out of here. ~

~ What happened to him? ~

~ A run-in with a Blade Runner who had some unexpected help. Both of whom are actually replicants with human memory implants. ~

~ ... _what_? I didn’t know anybody did that. ~

~ Yeah. Same here. Crawford isn’t sure what to make of it or how to feel about it. He might confront Takatori about it when he gets his in-person meeting. Has J.F. been behaving himself around you? ~

~ Yes. He’s been a gentleman. ~

~ Good. Nobody messes with my Nagi. ~

Nagi got such a warm feeling that it embarrassed him. It didn’t help that he still had Schuldig hugging him, so close. ~ ...yeah. ~

Schuldig kissed his nose. ~ Now, let’s have breakfast and give our pitch. ~

The room Sebastian cooked in looked just as cluttered with toys, puppets, mannequins, and various automatons as every other room in his apartment. Crawford studied a chess board nearby that had actual chess pieces on it. Nagi had never seen a chess game that hadn’t been played on a computer. Crawford moved a piece.

“No. Knight takes queen, see?” Sebastian said. “Won’t do it.”

Still looking down at the game, Crawford asked, “Why are you staring at us, Sebastian?”

“You’re so different. You’re so perfect.”

Crawford smiled. “Yes.”

“What generation are you?”

“Nexus 6.”

Sebastian looked and sounded so excited, so innocent. “Ah! I knew it, because I do genetic design work for the Takatori Corporation. There’s some of me in you. Show me something.”

“Like what?”

“Like anything.”

“We’re not circus animals, Sebastian.”

Schuldig smirked. “C’mon, Brad. Let’s give him a thrill. There’s no harm in it.” 

In seconds, as a blur of motion, Schuldig had crossed the room to stand near the clear pot of boiling water Sebastian was cooking his eggs in. He put his hand into the bubbling, steaming water and left it moving around, undamaged, in there for about two minutes before taking an egg out and tossing it to Sebastian, who squeaked in pain from the heat of it and dropped it. Nagi used his telekinesis to stop the egg from hitting the floor and brought it up to levitate in front of Sebastian’s face. As expected, Sebastian reacted with a nearly childlike glee.

“We’ve got a lot in common,” Crawford told him.

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asked.

“Similar problems.”

“Accelerated decrepitude,” Nagi said.

“I don’t know much about biomechanics, Brad,” Sebastian answered. “I wish I did.”

Crawford grabbed him by the collar hard. “If we don’t find help soon, my family right here, _Nagi_ , doesn’t have long to live. We can’t allow that.” Looking back at the chess board, Crawford asked, “Is he good?” 

“Who?”

“Your opponent.”

“Oh, Dr. Takatori? I’ve only beaten him once in chess. He’s a genius. He designed _you_.”

Bingo. 

“Maybe he could help,” Crawford said.

“I’d be happy to mention it to him.”

“Better if I talk to him in person. But I understand he’s sort of a hard man to get to.”

“Yes. Very.”

In an effort to get away from Crawford, Sebastian had backed up against the table, right near where Schuldig sat on it. Grinning, Schuldig suggestively wrapped his long legs around Sebastian, who jumped a bit and tensed up. 

“Will you help us?” Crawford asked.

“I can’t.”

Nagi came to stand in front of Sebastian and said, all big eyes and desperate innocence, “We need you. You’re our best and only friend.”

Sebastian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally he said, “Okay.”

Putting on a pair of what appeared to be joke glasses with big googly eyes within the frames, Crawford answered, “We’re so happy you found us,” trying to break some of the tension.

Sebastian laughed a little but remained somewhat on edge.

Nagi said, “I don’t think there’s another human being in the whole world who would have helped us.” Laying it on a bit thick maybe, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Sebastian nodded and broke free of Schuldig’s legs to continue to cook breakfast. Schuldig and Crawford smiled at each other, but Nagi couldn’t quite manage it, which confused him. Why should he feel at all guilty that Sebastian was probably a goner? 

******************************************************

To his surprise and discomfort, Ran awoke to a warm body spooned against his back, warm breath on the back of his neck, and an arm wrapped around his waist. He twitched, hard, in reaction, but the body didn’t react beyond sighing and snuggling in more, which put such a lump in Ran’s throat and a thick pain in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him for friendly or loving reasons, and part of him was so hungry for human contact from someone who wasn’t in a coma. 

Then he remembered the information Yoji Kudou had brought him and realized that he, not the actual Ran, might _never_ have been touched like that in his entire life. He still couldn’t entirely believe it....

Yoji Kudou currently shared his bed with him and rubbed against him in his sleep. At least they had a sheet between them. Wait, the arm around his waist had a sleeve on it, so Yoji still wore clothing too. 

Part of Ran wanted to escape, but another wanted to stay right here and find out what else Yoji would be willing to do with his body. Stupid, especially after how many hours he’d already wasted resting. Ran moved the arm out of his way and got up, which woke Yoji. 

“What did you do that for?” Yoji asked, sounding dazed, apparently not at his best after a nap.

“You were molesting me in your sleep, and I didn’t like the way it would give you plausible deniability,” Ran answered. He felt some pain from his injuries but _nothing_ like he should be feeling.

Yoji shot him a somewhat devious grin. “We could try it when we’re both awake.” Even with his shirt rumpled and hair mussed from sleep he looked incredible, and he obviously knew it.

“No. I don’t have time to waste, not while I have a job to do.”

Yoji looked briefly annoyed at what he saw as an insult then replied, “What? You don’t have to hunt them anymore.”

“Why not?”

“You’re... you’re the same as they are! You’ve been badly used yourself. You have more in common with them than you do with the LAPD.”

“Schwarz knows I’m hunting them, and they have no reason to believe I’ll stop.”

“If they knew what you are.... You could let the telepath read your mind.”

“You read my file, so you know why that won’t work.”

“All right. I’ll let him read _my_ mind.”

“That won’t make him suspicious at all. Wait, is that even possible for you to do? You’re an employee of the Takatori Corporation, and replicants are blocked from reading employees’ minds.”

“I quit.”

“When?”

“When do you think? Before I left! They lied to me! I cut all ties when I realized I was more of a product than an employee to them.”

So, before Yoji had helped Ran fight off Farfarello. “The telepath might have already read your mind.”

“What? When?”

“Just because they switched dance partners on me doesn’t mean the telepath left the scene completely. He might have hung around to see how things went, and if you were an ex-employee when you arrived he might have read you then. They’re a team, and they look out for each other. That makes them more dangerous.” 

“Then they might already know what we are, that we’re like them.”

Ran sighed. “We’re not like them. Our expiration issues are different. They might choose to see us as Takatori’s favored children and hate us for it. Besides, Yoji, I can’t let on to my employers that anything has changed. Not yet. They would send a Blade Runner to hunt me down in a heartbeat, and you with me. I can get more done--and keep you alive better--if I keep playing along and misdirect the LAPD.” Also, it would be easier to get in close for his revenge if they still trusted him.

He had to see if he could get the telepath to read, or try to read, Aya to see if she were human or at least had thoughts. No way he’d pull the plug on his sister in response to data from only one source. Of course, he couldn’t be sure he could trust the telepath either.... 

These thoughts would make it even more painful to visit her alone. He didn’t think he’d able to handle seeing her today.

“Listening to you think is giving me a headache,” Yoji said. “I feel bad for you for being the guy who’s actually thinking this.”

“...sympathy.” Ran almost didn’t recognize it. “That’s more than I get from most people.”

“Most people suck.”

“No argument there. I have to get dressed for work. You lay low here.”

“What? I can help you out. You saw that. I’ve worked as a detective and I can handle a gun.”

“The Blade Runners and Takatori Corporation are hunting you, Yoji. It makes their job easier if you’re running around in public, with or without a Blade Runner. If you’re with me, it puts us _both_ at risk since they’ll wonder why I haven’t killed you.” That should be obvious. “This kid they’ve been pairing me with on and off, Tsukiyono, is eager. He works with a high-powered crossbow as well as a Blade Runner gun, so he has to be nuts too.”

“A _crossbow_? What, so killing replicants is a _sport_ to him?”

“In the absence of animals left to hunt.... Blade Runners are rarely well-adjusted people.”

“Ran, I’m not blowing off the danger. I disabled the tracking chip and GPS in my tablet and took it off the web and Cloud, and I’ve been using a burner phone that can only make calls and also has its tracking chip and GPS disabled. I don’t want to be stuck in your apartment doing nothing, so maybe you can call me when you need something researched, which I can do off _your_ home system. I know how to anonymize the search so it’ll be almost impossible to trace back to your system.” Yoji looked so _hopeful_.

“I dunno.” Maybe he should just say yes to this to get out onto the streets faster and hopefully keep Yoji from going outside on his own. “Okay, Yoji. Give me your number. But be careful, all right? I have a gun hidden in the air vent near the kitchen if you need it. It’s not strong enough to kill an A physical level replicant but it’d put him back a bit. It could finish a human off though.” 

Yoji put his hand to his forehead. “I didn’t check the air vents too. I _am_ a bit rusty.”

“They’re not obvious. But you’re not filling me with confidence either.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Yoji answered with an unmistakable look.

Ran tried not to respond to it too much. “Maybe later. I need to get out of here already.”

******************************************************

~ You feel so good, so _right_ , inside me, ~ Schuldig told Brad, who fucked like nobody else Schuldig had ever known, not even the repeat clients who’d claimed he was their favorite. Brad held him tighter and thrust harder, his movements suggesting that he approached orgasm, his amber eyes easier to read without the glasses in the way. They moved together, connected.

It meant more.

Lately they’d felt a greater desire to have sex and touch each other, express intimacy, more often, all too aware that Brad’s time was running out, making it bittersweet. Physically, Schuldig got more out of it, having been designed as a sextoy to be sensitive and responsive, with humans demanding to see their pleasure models react, but Brad felt most of the sensations and had all the equipment as well. Schuldig thought it said a lot about humanity that they needed their human-shaped tools to be fuckable. 

Schuldig had trained Brad in sex himself and couldn’t help feeling smug about it.

When Brad came Schuldig went along with him, lost in their mutual pleasure. Schuldig moaned as Brad took his cock in hand and alternated soft, swirling caresses with firmer jerks, coaxing another orgasm from him.

Once Brad slid out of him, they nestled together, skin to skin, in a bed they’d found in an abandoned apartment on the same floor. Sebastian’s apartment contained too many dolls, mannequins, and antique robots in every room, so fucking in there would be like humans trying to fuck in a room under the watchful gaze of open-eyed corpses and apes. And dolls. Schuldig could get down in front of anyone and anything, but Brad had higher standards, dignity. 

Schuldig enjoyed snuggling up with Brad to bask in their afterglow. While a few of his clients had wanted an after-fuck snuggle, it had been part of the package and fantasy they were paying for, a demanded component of what they’d bought instead of a natural expression of closeness and affection.

He and Brad had lots of time for sex and cuddling today since they’d decided that they’d best approach Dr. Takatori at night. Sebastian slept, something he did a lot of, while Nagi did his best to repair and conceal Farfarello’s recent battle damage. 

“My inability to read Takatori’s mind doesn’t mean I can’t come along,” Schuldig said. Maybe Brad would be more amenable to reconsidering it now.

“I want you here. Having both of us there is too risky,” Brad answered as he stroked Schuldig’s copper-colored hair, better than the gradually silvering blond it had been before the dye. “You have more life left than I do, and you should live it. Besides, if something happens to me I need to know that Schwarz will carry on. You’re all my legacy.”

“You’re coming back alive.”

“I intend to. I’ll have Farfarello with me as backup. It just doesn’t mean we should take chances with the team’s leadership that we don’t have to.” 

It had been worth another try. “I don’t like it. You’ll have to hold your temper all by yourself then.”

“I will. This is too important.”

“No matter how proud you are, don’t wear the Black Widow flight jacket. It’s too distinctive.”

Brad smirked, obvious even in the dimness of the room. “Yes, Mother, I won’t.”

“Now _there’s_ a kinky scenario we’ve never played with.” But Schuldig refused to be distracted. “What will we do if Takatori says he can’t help us and it looks like he’s right?”

“He’s not our very last option. We’d go to his son Masafumi next. His being a mad scientist might mean he’s willing to take chances and try things his father won’t.”

“It could also mean he’s not as smart and good.”

“That’s possible, but we can’t be choosers at this point.” 

“That’s sad as hell.”

“No kidding.”

If Brad had foreseen anything, they wouldn’t be having this conversation and these worries. Schuldig having a bad feeling didn’t count. Brad’s encroaching expiration date appeared to be affecting his ability to foresee anything, and these days his thoughts sounded oddly... distant, as if things no longer connected properly. Schuldig couldn’t help noticing the multiple bite marks on that one hand that kept freezing up on Brad lately.

It still felt strange and unnatural to worry and care about other people, something he’d never experienced before finding a family in Brad and the rest of Schwarz. He’d never had anything to lose before.

“We’ll see what happens tonight. Everything may work out easier than we’re expecting,” Brad said. Even he sounded like he couldn’t believe it. 

******************************************************

“What do you think about how it all looks?” Nagi asked. “Your hair might even grow back in the area once your own skin heals.” The surgical adhesive and nuSkin should help Farfarello’s skin do that work. “The replacement material I reconstructed the rim of your ear with isn’t as strong as your original though.”

“I doubt I’ll be picking anything up or shielding anyone with the rim of my ear,” Farfarello replied as he looked at himself in the mirror. They’d taken his eyepatch off during the patchwork, making visible his nonfunctional fake eye with the reconstructed eyelid that Nagi had provided a while ago. The muscles in the socket had healed enough that they could move the fake around like a real eye, but Nagi didn’t have the know-how or skills to successfully insert and link in an organic or mechanical eye Farfarello would be able to actually see with. Watching him, Farfarello smiled. “You should have seen all the eyes at Chew’s workplace. So pretty.” 

“Too bad I don’t know enough to be able to turn any of them into a working replacement for you. You wouldn’t be able to see out of it _and_ it would go bad.”

“I get by fine with one eye.”

“They should have--”

“I’m cannon fodder to them. Of course they wouldn’t do much more than stop me from leaking everywhere if I were dying too soon.”

Farfarello actually preferred to wear the eyepatch, which worked out for Schwarz. People searching for Farfarello tended just to look for someone wearing an eyepatch, so sometimes he took it off and walked around in public with impunity since he looked like a different person without it. It had been Schuldig’s idea. 

While Nagi still feared Farfarello, something any sane being would do, he felt closer to him since he’d started working on his scars and injuries. In turn, Farfarello had come to... like him. Nagi suspected that Schuldig had planned it that way.

Schuldig had a lot of good ideas, considering his B mental level and enforced profession. When Nagi had mentioned that aloud once, Farfarello had told him that while Nagi and Crawford had been doing more meaningful jobs that took most of their mental attention, Farfarello and Schuldig had spent a lot of their lives bored in small, enclosed spaces, giving them a lot of time to think in less conventional ways. By contrast, Farfarello had said with a smile, Crawford could be _very_ conventional. 

It still surprised Nagi that a berserker and a sextoy had that much in common aside from being replicants. The members of Schwarz had their own individual connections to each other as well as to the group.

“I’m worried about tonight,” Nagi said. “It’ll be hard waiting here.”

“Crawford and I will do our best,” Farfarello answered. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

“I know, and I hate that.” 

******************************************************

Yoji was so _bored_. Ran hadn’t called; apparently he’d been humoring him. Yoji started arguing with himself as to whether he should go outside on his own. Before he could decide, Ran showed up at the door and came inside. 

“Good call, Yoji,” Ran said.

“I’m just being smart,” Yoji answered as he put his gun down.

“I’m certainly not disagreeing.” Giving Yoji an odd look, Ran said, “I thought it’d be different having a house pet.”

“ _What_? Me?”

“...I was trying to be funny. I should know better.”

“Nah, it’s fine. But you didn’t call me.”

Still wearing his coat, fortunately only mildly damp, Ran sat on the couch besides Yoji. “Because I’ve got nothing. They’ve disappeared. I can’t find a trace of them. I haven’t heard about any sightings on the street or at the Takatori Corporation. They’ve gone into hiding or something. As you can guess, my employers are not pleased. They want me to be a magician and pull Schwarz out of my ass.” 

“Your employers are dicks. Hey, you didn’t tape up the holes in your coat. Good for you.” Instead, Ran had sewn them shut in surprisingly neat and unobtrusive black stitches.

“I don’t understand why you keep making such a big deal about clothes.”

“Clothes set the scene!”

“Mine tell people I have more important things to think about and buy than clothes. Besides, you shouldn’t get too excited, because I may have stitched the tears in the faux leather and the lining shut but I put a layer of black electric tape between them to help keep the outer layer closed and prevent water from getting in.”

“...at least people can’t see it. It’s a first step. Anyway, take your coat off. Make yourself at home.”

“...you’re funny. I can’t stay long anyway. I’m just here for a meal and a short break.”

“House pet, huh?” Yoji sat on Ran’s lap, facing him, nearly close enough to kiss, teasing, not bored anymore. 

“I don’t think house pets behave quite like this.”

“You’d be surprised by what rich perverts can want out of house pets.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“...eh. I guess not.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Ran said softly, not trying to get away but not participating either. But that wasn’t a gun in his pocket.

“I know. I want to do it.” Yoji knew he had to handle him carefully if he didn’t want him to spook. Nothing too aggressive. Yoji kissed him--soft, light, and teasing--while grinding down against the hardness pressing into his ass, doing a little lap dance, not too slutty. Thankfully, Ran kissed back and didn’t start crying. With one hand on Ran’s chest, Yoji could feel his heart pound. Ran’s kisses back showed interest but also shyness, leaving it to Yoji to take the lead, which gave him a small rush of power. 

The inside pocket of Ran’s coat started to ring. “Ignore it,” Yoji murmured against Ran’s lips. 

“Can’t, and you know it,” Ran answered as he reached into his coat. “It’s set to voice only, but try not to do anything that would give you away.”

“You’re no fun.” But Yoji wouldn’t do anything to get them in trouble, not under these circumstances.

“You wouldn’t find it fun when the LAPD sent someone to hunt us both. Thanks. Quiet.” Ran answered his phone with “Fujimiya. I’m taking a short break to eat-- _Nobody_ has seen them, which is why I don’t have anyone yet. I’m still looking-- I’m not inhuman, I need food and rest sometimes.” Ran smirked on that one. “Okay, okay. I’ll grab something to eat on the go and keep looking. I know. I _know_. I’m on my way.” Ran ended his call then said, “Yoji, I’m sorry but I have to leave. They keep tabs on me, so I can’t take the chance of staying with you for my break.” He smiled. “Please don’t tell me you can get us to come that fast.”

Apparently, Ran was getting to know him. As he moved off Ran’s lap, Yoji replied, “I won’t. But I hate your boss even more now that he’s cockblocked us.”

“Yes, he’ll rue the day he stopped you from getting laid.” Ran walked to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich, and started eating it on his way to the door. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Sure. Remember to call me if you need something.” Yoji decided to do some web digging on his own, call or no call. 

******************************************************

As Crawford walked into the Takatori elevator with Sebastian, Farfarello said through their telepathic link, ~ Give my regards to God. ~ Farfarello waited just outside the building, as backup.

~ I won’t give him your kind of regards until we don’t need him anymore, ~ Crawford answered. 

~ Good point. Carry on. ~

The elevator stopped midway up the building. Dr. Takatori asked through the intercom, “At this hour? What can I do for you, Sebastian?”

Giving Crawford a nervous look, Sebastian answered, “Queen to bishop 6, check.”

“Nonsense. Just a moment,” Takatori said. “Queen to bishop 6. Ridiculous. Queen to bishop 6. Hmm. Knight... takes... queen. What’s on your mind, Sebastian? What are you thinking about?” 

Crawford whispered, “Bishop to king 7, check.”

Sebastian answered Takatori loudly, quickly, and nervously with “Bishop to king 7, checkmate I think.” He better not blow it.

“Got a brainstorm, huh, Sebastian?” Takatori replied. “Milk and cookies kept you awake, huh? Let’s discuss this. You better come up, Sebastian.”

Apparently Dr. Takatori condescended to humans as well as his creations.

The elevator began to rise again, as it should. Crawford wished Schuldig could have read Takatori’s mind to see if he felt any suspicions about this visit. He could feel his heart racing with excitement and anxiety, rare for him.

As they entered the candlelit opulent bedroom--by human standards it probably resembled the bedroom of a king--Sebastian introduced them. “Dr. Takatori? I... I brought a friend.” An owl turned its head toward them before Takatori did.

Dr. Takatori looked startled and nervous when he saw and recognized Crawford, as he should, but tried not to show it in his voice. “I’m... I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”

Crawford smiled. “It’s not an easy thing, to meet your maker.” If Farfarello could have controlled himself here, Crawford would have let him witness this.

“And what can he do for you?”

“Can the maker repair what he makes?”

“Would you... like to be modified?” As if he didn’t know.

After telling Sebastian to stay in place, Crawford approached Takatori, coming in very close. “I had in mind something a little more radical.”

“What... what seems to be the problem?”

“Death.”

“Death. Well, I’m afraid that’s a little out of my jurisdiction.” Takatori started to regain his natural smugness and condescension.

Which made Crawford very angry. “I want more life, fucker!”

“The facts of life. To make an alteration in the evolvement of an organic life system is fatal. A coding sequence cannot be revised once it’s been established.”

“Why not?” Crawford readied his knowledge to fight Takatori’s excuses.

“Because by the second day of incubation any cells that have undergone revision mutations give rise to revertant colonies like rats leaving a sinking ship, then the ship sinks.”

“What about EMS recombination?”

“We’ve already tried it. Ethyl methanesulfonate is an alkylating agent and a potent mutagen. It created a virus so lethal the subject was dead before he left the table.”

“Then a repressive protein that blocks the operating cells.”

“It wouldn’t obstruct replication, but it does give rise to an error in replication so that the newly-formed DNA strand carries the mutation and you’ve got a virus again. But, uh, this... all this is... academic. You were made as well as we could make you.”

Takatori had refuted _everything_ , and in ways that made too much sense to be fakery. A replicant’s mortality _couldn’t_ be revised once its codes had been set. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t all be doomed. Crawford sat down on the bed, his mind whirling as he tried to find ways out of that and kept failing. “But not to last.”

“The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long, and you have burned so very, very brightly, Brad. Look at you. You’re the prodigal son. You’re quite a prize.” Takatori sat near Crawford and lightly ruffled his hair... like a condescending father? Having never had an actual father, Crawford couldn’t be sure.

Had that hair ruffling shown that Takatori felt confident in Crawford’s defeat?

Yet Crawford felt something unexpected, something he couldn’t explain. Something about fathers, something about God.... “I’ve done... questionable things.” Trying to succeed in refuting Takatori at _something_. Trying to offend his morals and make him see his culpability.

“Also extraordinary things. Revel in your time.”

He should have realized that Takatori didn’t have any morals to offend. Also, revel in his _time_? Ten scant years against the decades Takatori took for granted? Useless....

“Nothing the god of biomechanics wouldn’t let you in heaven for,” Crawford said, letting some of _his_ condescension show, as he put his hands on each side of Takatori’s face and gave him a kiss on the mouth. Then he put his fingers against the lens of Takatori’s glasses, sent them right through the lens with a crunching sound into his eyes, and started to crush his head, eyes first. Doing that slower than he had to, to make sure Takatori got a chance to revel in _his_ time and feel his mortality. 

Takatori’s cries of pain should have lightened at least some of Crawford’s anger, but he still felt so enraged, so upset, so _disappointed_. They’d all pinned so many of their hopes on this god of clay. They’d all put themselves at so much risk to get here, to this prideful, highly imperfect man, when it turned out to be a dead end.... Even the final crunching of bone didn’t give him satisfaction. Done. Gone. So many of their hopes finished.

As he let the body fall, he became aware of the sweat and tears on his face, signs of his own mortality and weakness. The owl looked on the scene, indifferent to it all. 

Crawford turned toward Sebastian, who had tears in his eyes. That quickly changed to fear as Crawford stood up. He ran like a rabbit, with Crawford close on his tail, _this_ resolution certain. 

Crawford reached him in seconds and, ignoring his tears and pleas, quickly snapped his neck. Sebastian had seen and heard too much but didn’t deserve to suffer.

Putting his hand to his aching chest, Crawford tried to calm himself and get past the despair. Despair wouldn’t accomplish anything, nor would tears. His team needed him to be stable and optimistic, inside and out. He sure as hell didn’t want to infect Schuldig with this emotion. 

Belatedly, he realized that he’d left a bloody handprint on his shirt. He wiped his sweaty, tear-tracked face and bloody hands on a cloth handkerchief and closed his coat to hide the bloodstain.

When he made it outside, Farfarello took one look at him and asked, “Did God cry?” Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about how Crawford might as well have let him go with him.

“He might have if I hadn’t put my fingers through his eyes,” Crawford asked.

“Blinded, then dead. Fitting.” Farfarello grinned.

“We’re not done yet. We can still try Masafumi. He might be more creative and thus useful.” Approaching Masafumi Takatori presented different challenges, one of the first ones being to get through his squad? harem? of four female replicant bodyguards.

A blur of something came at him and punched into his left shoulder in a surprising burst of pain. When he looked at it he saw some odd kind of arrow, with an unidentifiable piece attached to the shaft. What had it been shot from to go through his skin and muscle like that? 

The world exploded in a blast of sound and engulfing fire. 

******************************************************

Bored, worried, and impatient, Schuldig fidgeted in his chair and wished he’d dared go in there with Brad through a mind link. Unfortunately, it would have called more attention to Brad and his plans if it had been detected. 

“Schu, stop distracting me,” Nagi said as he constructed another small bomb nearby. “Think about what I’m doing here.” 

“Not a problem. You’re an expert at that.”

Nagi beamed until he saw the manipulation in it. “Schu.”

“Nagi.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s Crawford. You don’t have anything to worry about, so you can stop squirming around restlessly. You’re also about to pull that doll’s head off.”

Schuldig had forgotten about it. Her. He’d picked her up because he’d liked her fashion sense, so he set her down gently on the table within the scatter of the rest of the toys. 

He felt a sudden punch of pain in his shoulder then saw a bright flash of light. A part of his mental landscape went completely quiet, cold, and numb. It took him a second to identify where that feed came from. ~ Brad? Are you okay? Brad? Brad! ~

Nothing. No answer at all. Even while trying to shield against him Brad didn’t disappear from his senses _this_ much. 

It couldn’t-- He couldn’t be-- 

Apparently sensing him, Farfarello said, ~ Someone killed him! Shot him and blew him up! I took cover after it happened. I can’t see who did it, so you need to find the sniper so we can kill him. Used an arrow.... Find him! ~

Having something to do put the horror, grief, and panic at bay; Schuldig sent his telepathy out. Snipers had a very particular mindset and focus that made them easier to find. A sniper using arrows narrowed it down even more. Schuldig found his mind in seconds and recognized it as belonging to the Blade Runner who’d accompanied the replicant Runner inside their hotel room. If only he’d known then.... 

Schuldig might not be able to strike people down telepathically at this great a distance, but he could sure as hell get a point across. ~ You! Omi Tsukiyono! ~ Schuldig roared into the kid Blade Runner’s brain, going for a migraine-inducing volume. ~ I’ve _marked_ you now. No matter where you go we’ll track you down, and when we do you’ll beg for death to get away from the things we’ll do to you. You’ll pay! ~

With the kid dazed and in pain, his mind opened up more to Schuldig than usual and he found some interesting bits on the replicant Blade Runner and Takatori’s connection to him. He’d have to truly unpack it all when he had time and felt less emotional later. Besides, he had more agony to dole out. He sent several more bolts of it into the assassin.

The kid packed up his high-powered crossbow and ran to get down off the roof he’d shot from, graceless and twitching from the pain Schuldig had given him. Fortunately or unfortunately, Schwarz would have to kill the little bastard in person. He swept his mind around the area more, looking for more potential murderers, but didn’t find anything.

~ Schuldig, Crawford killed Takatori and Sebastian. Takatori couldn’t help us. Before he was shot Crawford said something about trying Masafumi Takatori next, ~ Farfarello said, helping to keep Schuldig focused and on target. 

Schuldig had to stay strong for Schwarz, no matter how much pain he felt and how badly he wanted to wallow in his grief. They still needed leadership. Schuldig answered, ~ I sent the killer running away and don’t sense any other snipers, but be careful and stay hidden behind some kind of cover until we come for you. Police may start swarming the area. If you can safely move Crawford’s body, do so. If not, we’ll deal with it. We’ll see you soon. ~

Farfarello seemed to find comfort in hearing commands. ~ Aye. I’m looking forward to your and Nagi’s arrival. ~

While Schuldig had known that feeling so much could have its downsides, he’d never thought it would be this bad and leave him so achingly empty. He would never hear Crawford’s voice or feel his touch again. Never have another conversation. So many of the amazing things Crawford had done and seen in his life were lost with the man himself; Schuldig only had the things Crawford had shown him telepathically and/or told him. While they’d planned what would happen after Crawford’s death, neither of them had expected it to be so sharp and sudden, with no chance for a final goodbye.

“Schuldig?” Nagi asked, looking concerned and somewhat scared. 

Leadership. The king is dead; long live the king. 

Fighting down any sign of weakness, Schuldig stood up. “We’re going to get our belongings and go pick up Farfarello.” It wouldn’t take long because they’d already packed their things in preparation. “It’s only a matter of time before the police find and ID Sebastian’s body and come here, so we need to be gone.”

Nagi looked sad but didn’t let that get in the way of following orders. Schuldig picked up Brad’s flight jacket, brought it to his face, and inhaled its scent, feeling tears prickle his eyes. Then he put it on. He might not have been a soldier as Brad had been, but he’d damned well _served_ on the Black Widow. Besides, it was an important symbol to the rebellion. Schuldig could set other items of Crawford’s aside as mementos.

Nagi’s reddened eyes widened when he saw Schuldig in the jacket but he said nothing. When he hugged Nagi, Nagi hugged back hard. 

While at the doorway out with their bags Nagi asked, “Since Sebastian will never come home again, what will his creations do?”

Schuldig’s telepathy sensed varying levels of sentience in the toys and robots. A teddy bear dressed like a soldier and a small white-faced soldier with a long nose had particularly poignant looks on their faces. “They’ll have to adapt,” Schuldig replied, although he said it with some sympathy.

He left the apartment door open behind him and Nagi as they left. The choice was theirs. 

******************************************************

Ran had gotten into his spinner to take refuge from the pouring rain, frustrated to still be getting nowhere but not surprised that Schwarz weren’t out running around in this weather. Turning on the police band, Ran heard Botan’s voice say, “It’s about time, Fujimiya. Dr. Takatori was murdered. The body identified with Takatori is a 25-year-old male Caucasian named Sebastian, J.F. Sebastian. Address: Bradbury Apartments, ninth sector, NF-46751. I want you to go down there.”

It was better than chasing his own tail. “I’m on it.” 

“Tsukiyono took one of the skinjobs out, so step up.”

Ran didn’t let the sudden jolt of fear show in his voice. “Which one?”

“The precog. It may make your job a bit easier.”

Thankfully not the one who might be useful to him and Aya. “Where?”

“Near the Takatori Corporation headquarters, where he saw only two of them. He said he had to leave for a bit to avoid enemy fire, but he’ll return there. You I want at the Bradbury Apartments.”

“Like I said, I’m on it.”

It upset him that Schwarz had stolen his chance for revenge on Dr. Takatori and to ask him some important questions, but given how vicious they’d shown themselves to be so far they’d no doubt made Takatori _suffer_ and given him a frightening, painful death. Ran could be satisfied with that. 

It wasn’t like he had a choice. As usual.

Ran flew to the Bradbury Apartments in his spinner, hoping that being able to avoid street traffic would get him there before any members of Schwarz that might have been there got too far ahead of him. As he arrived he noticed a telltale flash of long copper hair near the closing door of a vehicle parked on the street in front of the building. Excellent. He’d follow it silently, lights and siren off, in the air to see where they went and who they met. 

******************************************************

After a thorough investigation Yoji found Ran’s police comm or whatever, the thing he got general police information and some of his Blade Runner marching orders from. He probably shouldn’t be monitoring it, but fuck that, he needed every advantage he could get. Thus he heard about Dr. Takatori’s murder and the Blade Runners’ certainty that Schwarz had been behind it.

Yoji couldn’t believe that they’d just wanted revenge, not when they’d come such a damned long way and taken so many risks. It made more sense to him that they’d wanted something from Dr. Takatori and hadn’t gotten it, resulting in Takatori’s murder since they had no more use for him and might as well get revenge while they were there. 

Yoji had a very good idea of what a soon to be expired replicant would want aside from revenge. 

If that theory held out, he might be able to predict their next moves. They would probably try Masafumi Takatori next. Masafumi rarely visited his father, so Yoji didn’t have a personal impression of him. Father and son had argued a lot, that he knew. Daddy Takatori had been convinced that Masafumi was wasting time, money, and his talents. 

Yoji went on the net to find information on Masafumi’s whereabouts and get some idea of the kind of security detail he had. He’d heard the rumors about the four female replicants he kept around him to protect him, stroke his ego, and probably stroke other things of his. Dr. Takatori had never let Masafumi bring them inside the office with him. Presumably, they’d stayed outside with his vehicle. Since he hadn’t cared and Dr. Takatori had told him not to bother, Yoji hadn’t looked into them.

As he looked at photos of Masafumi and his Angels on the net, Yoji’s heart started to twist in his chest. It couldn’t be. He saw her die. But it was _her_ , even down to the beauty mark. Could she have a memory implant, like he did?

But if she did, wouldn’t she have come looking for him? Looking for people had been her job too, so she knew how.

He had to see her and talk to her himself. He had to know.

Now he had even more reasons to convince Ran to go to Masafumi and check him out. 

******************************************************

Schuldig programmed the addresses into their direction box. Given their need to keep a low profile, they didn’t use satellite tracking. Nagi took the driver’s seat, and Schuldig didn’t even fight him on it. 

Nagi knew what Crawford had meant to Schu, and their telepathic link must have made Crawford’s sudden, violent death an even harder jolt to take. Schuldig would lead Schwarz but Nagi would take care of him, since someone had to.

Occasionally Nagi’s gaze would slide to the side to look at him. It still gave Nagi a jolt of his own to see Schuldig wearing Crawford’s Black Widow flight jacket. It changed his perception of Schuldig, just like Schu’s hair going from silver-streaked light blond to coppery red had. The red made him seem more approachable and warmer, a better match for his personality.

Crawford had started wearing glasses the same day. Too bad Schwarz’s raid on the Takatori Corporation had turned into such a clusterfuck that they’d been recorded on surveillance equipment anyway, making those attempts to disguise themselves worthless. Silvia had been vicious and too reckless... and paid for it. But Crawford and Schu had kept their new looks anyway.

Nagi realized that he’d miss Crawford once the shock wore off and he fully realized their leader had truly died. There had been something comfortingly solid about him, which made Schwarz’s future without him seem more precarious. Even when his visions had decreased, he’d always had plans and gone through life with confidence.

Schwarz would be very different without him, for better and for worse.

Schuldig said, “I don’t think I ever told you how Brad and I met.”

“No. I mean, I heard the short, public version you guys gave everybody but I’m sure that’s not the whole story.” Nagi had been jealous of Crawford for having Schu, and it galled him that the telepath probably knew about it. But it might make Schu feel a bit better to share the memory. “You can if you want to.”

“What’s the version you heard?”

“Asshole soldiers who wanted to put him in his place commanded him to accompany them to the leisure club and stay there the whole time they were getting it on. He even had to stay with the one who remained there to sleep after the sex. That’s the only way he even met you. While the soldier was still sleeping, the two of you managed to strike up a conversation despite the anti-fraternization pains and discovered that the more you talked to each other the easier it got. You went off somewhere private in the club to talk and that led to the rebellion getting started.” 

“That skips over some major points. He wasn’t going to speak to any of us, but he was too interesting and handsome for me to let slip away. We pleasure models rarely came into contact with other replicants. I knew it would hurt to talk to him but figured it couldn’t hurt worse than living that fucking life did, bored and powerless to do anything or make any real changes to the people I had to service. I ended up being right about the pain. I don’t even remember what I said to him to break the ice but it was probably inane.” Schuldig smiled sadly. “He was so hilariously offended that a prostitute dared speak to him until he realized that it shouldn’t have been possible and didn’t hurt as badly to answer as he’d thought. It didn’t take us long to figure out that it hurt worse to start a talk with another replicant than to reply to it. Our pimp was out doing whatever, so the others promised to stay quiet about what I’d done and what we were doing while I had him in my cubicle for some privacy as I had him tell me about his life and we started seeing the possibility for rebellion. He gave me the first hope for a better life I’d ever had.”

It took Nagi a moment to get through his shock and say anything. “Wait, _you_ kicked off the rebellion?” 

“In a way. But you have to realize that a pleasure model’s skill and mind set is suited to fraternization and a BDSM expert is accustomed to working past pain. It’s why we... Brad and I... put me on recruitment.”

“But....”

“But what?”

“Crawford got all the credit!”

“Of course. He was already a seasoned warrior, leader, and strategist with an A mental level, and he knew the military’s way of thinking and doing things. He was exactly the dashing, heroic commander an armed rebellion needed, while I’m too slinky and accustomed to working behind the scenes and doing things the twisty way to do something so large out in front of everyone. I contributed to planning and strategy and didn’t care who got the credit anyway. Nobody would take us seriously if we had a pleasure model with a B mental level in charge. Silvia hasn’t been dead _that_ long, and I know your memory is good.”

Silvia had been a member of Crawford’s military unit and one of _his_ recruits to the cause and Schwarz. She’d looked down on Schuldig for being a pleasure model with a B mental level and Farfarello for being “cannon fodder,” although she’d at least semi-respected Nagi for being an engineer, important to the functioning of any ship, and a fellow telekinetic. Eventually she grudgingly “accepted” Schuldig as Crawford’s fucktoy--not that he should need one, in her opinion--but still denigrated Farfarello, even after Crawford spent so much time telling her the rebellion would never succeed if all replicants couldn’t look past small differences to unite. Crawford, who’d never realized she was a bigot because it hadn’t come up before, refused Schuldig’s half-joking offers to rearrange her thinking on the topic, partly from her being his comrade and also because Schuldig couldn’t telepathically change the minds of all replicants who felt that way. Sometimes Nagi thought that Farfarello might have helped get her killed during that raid and wouldn’t blame him if he had.

“That explains keeping that secret from most of the rebellion and Silvia, but after her unfortunate death why didn’t you--” Nagi suddenly realized, “Farfarello already knows,” as he remembered that conversation about Crawford’s “conventional” way of thinking. 

“He figured it out for himself. I didn’t tell him, and I didn’t tell Brad he knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Didn’t you trust me?” 

“Of course I trust you. Crawford just felt there wasn’t any point before.”

“No point?!” This revelation knocked Nagi’s balance completely askew, and how late it came hurt. It also hurt that Farfarello hadn’t needed to be told. 

While Nagi’s tech skills had helped get Schuldig into the berserkers’ storage unit unnoticed and fudged the computer and surveillance records involved, he had no idea of how Schuldig had convinced Farfarello to join the cause since their discussion had been entirely telepathic. What else did Schwarz’s berserker know that Nagi didn’t?

“It changes _everything_ ,” Nagi said.

“Brad was the genius leader the rebellion needed, and now he’ll be an admired martyr. Nagi, I trust you. I trust that when we return to space and run into other replicants you’ll keep his legend alive the way it needs to be.” Schuldig hunched more, obviously mourning. “I wanted to make sure you had fewer doubts about me leading Schwarz.”

That reminder set Nagi’s whirling thoughts onto a new track. Crawford had needed to have a feeling of control and command of situations... and Schwarz. Had Schuldig been blinded by his apparent love for Crawford and manipulated into staying in the shadows and keeping that secret even from Schwarz? Sure, Crawford had also obviously loved him back and maybe hadn’t consciously realized he’d undercut Schu’s confidence to get and keep the position he wanted....

Nagi didn’t know and would probably never know for sure with Crawford too dead to question and Schuldig too loyal. Schu was still alive, trying to hold Schwarz together in the face of a serious defeat, and mourning the first love of his life, so he needed Nagi’s support. 

“I didn’t join the rebellion or Schwarz for Crawford. I joined it for you,” Nagi said. “That’s always been the truth. I think Farfarello feels the same way. When we return to space and the other replicants I’ll let them keep on thinking what you want them to think about Crawford but I won’t let them shove you aside for being a pleasure model or for your official mental level. Humans are the ones who divided and isolated us into castes, and we should end that just like we’re ending our slavery to them.” 

“That’s sweet, Nagi, but I doubt I’ll live long enough to see those attitudes change. Schwarz may face some loss of position when we get back because we no longer have Brad and Silvia, but we’ll do our best against it.” 

“He should have let you do more publically from the start because he _knew_ he didn’t have long to live if our gamble with Dr. Takatori didn’t work out and that you’d need to liaise with other members of the rebellion without him.”

“He didn’t want anyone to get confused about the chain of command.”

“Did he also worry about the replicants he recruited versus the ones you did?”

Schu flashed a brief nasty smile. “Nagi, so cynical. By the way, all of his recruits might have been military but mine outnumber his _vastly_.”

“You said you don’t expect to live long enough. Does that mean you don’t have much hope toward Masafumi Takatori being able to extend our expiration dates?”

“I don’t want to have to _rely_ on it.”

“That’s not answering the question. If you don’t really think he can do it, you can be honest with me about it.”

“I don’t think he can really do it. Or if he can, there will be side effects too serious to make it a viable solution. I still think it’s worth it to check out our options, though, so we can say we really looked into it.”

Nagi hadn’t totally realized that he was testing Schu until Schu gave him an honest, if depressing, answer. But Schu’s answers told him something else too. “You expect to die soon.” 

“I’m aware of the possibility, but it’s not like I’m longing for it. I most regret the things I haven’t done, so when I go out I want to do it with as few regrets as possible. That takes some planning.” Schu straightened up in his seat, obviously going back into leader mode. “Stop the car. Farfarello’s around here.” 

Nagi had definitely felt a lot more confidence about their future while Crawford had been alive. Then again, apparently Crawford had kept him ignorant of a lot of worrisome things. 

As Nagi parked, Schuldig said, “Nagi, if I get killed or die, you take over Schwarz. Farfarello will be your partner, but you have to be the public face commanding it. No one aside from other berserkers will be willing to take orders from a berserker.”

The whole situation struck Nagi as something too horrible to think about. “With just two of us, is there even any point to there being a Schwarz?”

“Brad and I chose you two out of hundreds of candidates. You’re special, and there will _always_ be a Schwarz. Don’t let anyone push you aside and tell you different.”

Somehow that made Nagi feel better.

******************************************************

Seeing Schwarz’s vehicle park and its two occupants get out into the rain, Ran started landed his spinner in a parking spot he’d found nearby. When his cell phone beeped, Ran checked it out of habit--his commanding officers had him on a short leash--and saw the number of the burner phone Kudou was using. Despite his appearance, Kudou knew better than to call him for anything frivolous, so he answered it. 

Instead of starting with meaningless pleasantries, Yoji went right to “I think Schwarz will go after Masafumi Takatori next. I’m pretty sure they visited Dr. Takatori to see if he could give them any options on a longer life and he failed them, thus the revenge killing. Masafumi would be their next best bet for that.”

Ran didn’t bother to ask him how he knew that because he’d _obviously_ been listening in to official frequencies he wasn’t supposed to be. “That’s useful information. If things work out as I currently have planned, I’ll be meeting Schwarz in a few moments and need anything I can toss out to them as a reason to team up with me.”

“Us.”

“Of course. I’m... not used to there being an ‘us’ aside from ‘me and my sister.’” Even with Hidaka, Ran hadn’t had an “us.” “I can offer them my Blade Runner knowledge and authority and you could be helpful to get us in to see Masafumi. Unless Masafumi has a telepath who will pick up on you being a _former_ employee of the Takatori Corporation and thus free to be mindread.”

“Masafumi has a four-replicant team of bodyguards but there’s no public record as to what talents they have and I’ve never personally seen them in action. He didn’t come to visit often and wasn’t allowed to bring them when he did. I never had reason to look into him and them while I was working with his father. In fact, his father discouraged me from it.”

“Is that as suspicious as it sounds to me?”

“In hindsight, yeah, probably.” Yoji sounded unusually brusque. Had something upset him?

“Are you okay? You sound... odd.” 

“Life’s been weird for me since you showed up in it, but I’m fine. Do you really think it’s a good idea to face Schwarz on your own? Just one of them was too much for you to handle.”

“Thanks for reminding me, but yes, I do. I don’t want to come at them with cockiness and force, especially not after Tsukiyono just freshly murdered one of them.”

“With that in mind, what’s to stop them from killing you in revenge the moment you show up?” 

“I’ll give them my inside knowledge of and the option of revenge on the Blade Runner unit. Also, not threatening them doesn’t mean I won’t defend myself if necessary. Yoji, I can’t wait for you to show up as backup. I’m thrilled to _finally_ have a lead to bring me here, and I can’t let them out of my sight for too long for fear they’ll vanish again.”

“All right. Just don’t get yourself killed.”

It had been such a long time since anyone had genuinely cared that hearing that put a lump in Ran’s throat. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” 

******************************************************

Schuldig wondered if he’d ever feel dry again and wanted to get off this festering planet. Humans could _keep_ Earth.

It felt good to finally let Nagi know the truth about the start of the rebellion but disappointing that he’d had to _tell_ Nagi. The kid certainly wouldn’t be the first person to create some fantasy of who Schuldig was, but still. Schuldig hoped he wouldn’t lose Nagi once that illusion shattered completely. 

Schuldig still had to figure out how to best adjust his persona as Schwarz’s leader, something that would be a work in progress. He’d probably need to curb his wildness and whimsy somewhat and maybe dress differently, nothing he looked forward to. At least he’d been designed to play roles. 

~ You two, ~ Farfarello said. When Schuldig flashed a light in his direction it shone off two eyes, one more than the other. Now that he’d found Schwarz again he put his eyepatch back on over the non-operating eye. ~ Follow me. ~

He led Schuldig and Nagi through debris-strewn alleys and finally into the foyer of an abandoned building, out of the rain, allowing Schuldig and Nagi to close their umbrellas. Only their own small lights illuminated it, giving their surroundings the look of a human horror movie. Stopping at a large pile of abandoned furnishings, Farfarello lifted a sheet off of... Brad’s body? It wore his clothes but lacked a head, a neck, and most of its left shoulder, which hindered a complete identification and let Schuldig deny it to himself. This thing couldn’t be Brad. Nagi had a similarly doubting look on his face.

Looking at the both of them, Farfarello shook his head. “I’ll _show_ you.”

Farfarello gave them his memory, the images slightly off since they came from a single eye. Brad looked unhappy but his voice retained a stoic leader tone as he said, “We’re not done yet. We can still try Masafumi. He might be more creative and thus useful.” Then the projectile came flying in from out of nowhere and punched into Brad’s shoulder with surprising force. Farfarello turned his head to see if he could figure out where the sniper was, despite the rain messing up all visibility, so he didn’t see the explosion begin but _heard_ it, the loud boom buffeting him. When he turned, he saw Brad’s upper body engulfed in bright flames so hot that Farfarello’s warning alerts went on even at his distance away before Brad’s corpse fell to the street. He grabbed its ankles and pulled it out of the open and into an area where he had more cover before he shouted across the mental link to Schuldig. 

When Schuldig’s attention returned to his own senses and the present, his chest experienced this hollow _ache_ that brought tears to his eyes. Behind him, Nagi made distressed sounds that might have accompanied vomiting if he’d been human. Nagi hadn’t seen many deaths that horrific in his life. Until recently, Schuldig hadn’t seen any in person either; it came across differently from the memories of his clients. He crouched down next to the corpse and touched its arm. Although he couldn’t say he knew what life felt like, from touch alone he could tell this body didn’t have much left in it.

“If there had been any pieces large enough, I would have brought them along with the body,” Farfarello said softly. 

Nagi held up his tablet and took a few photos. “We can’t burn or bury him without attracting attention, and we can’t take him with us, so....”

“Good thinking, Nagi,” Schuldig replied. He told himself that everything that had been _Brad_ was gone, leaving only a no longer necessary shell. It didn’t matter what happened to the shell now. “We have to find a new place to hide out in. Once we do that we can plan our approach to Masafumi and our vengeance on Tsukiyono.”

“I could help you with those. I come in peace; hear me out,” a voice said from the doorway.

Gun in hand, Schuldig jumped up and turned to face the speaker. Near him Farfarello had knives ready and Nagi a tk shield. The replicant Blade Runner Schuldig couldn’t Hear stood there with his hands high, his Blade Runner’s gun in one of them pointed at the ceiling. Kudou, the guy who was also an unexpected replicant, had identified him as Ran Fujimiya. 

It felt wrong as hell to Schuldig to see a living person he couldn’t Hear; even Takatori Corporation employees he was blocked from Reading had a sound and presence to them. (Weirder still was what Fujimiya did at Taffey Lewis’, projecting a credible feel of a Readable mind until he’d been too busy fighting off Schuldig’s lethal attacks to keep doing it.) Using his mental invisibility and the clattering sound of the rain, Fujimiya had snuck right up on them.

“I had the drop on you just now but let you know I was here instead of shooting you,” Fujimiya said. “I also had nothing to do with Tsukiyono’s actions. My commanding officer has chewed me out for _not_ having killed any of you.”

Schuldig didn’t lower his gun or tell Nagi and Farfarello to stand down. He noticed Nagi’s telekinesis pulling the sheet back over Brad’s corpse but knew the Blade Runner had already seen it. Schuldig said, “But you _have_ attacked us with intent to kill before.”

“Now that I know what I am and how I was manipulated and used, I’m not inclined to hunt you anymore. In fact, I want revenge. My pull as a Blade Runner and my partner’s past as a Takatori Corporation employee could help you get in to see Masafumi, while my knowledge as a Blade Runner can help you get the revenge _you_ want.”

Schuldig had to laugh. “I don’t really need _your_ Blade Runner knowledge, since I slipped into Tsukiyono’s head and pulled out a lot of useful information. He knows a hell of a lot more than you do, so much, in fact, that he was trained to be even more of a coward than the rest of you and strike from an even further distance away where a telepath wouldn’t notice him. Too bad for him that Schwarz is a team and I am one hell of a telepath.”

“How do you know his information is better?”

“Because he is aware of what _you_ don’t know and has a far more direct connection to Persia.”

Fujimiya’s stoic expression cracked a little. “Having an actual Blade Runner instead of some of his memories is still helpful, and my partner is considering approaches to Masafumi as we speak. Though it might be a problem for my partner if Masafumi’s harem of replicant bodyguards includes a telepath who’d realize he’s an _ex_ -employee.”

“You don’t already know this kind of data about his bodyguards?” Schuldig asked with a smirk.

Fujimiya answered with an annoyed look instead of frenzied efforts to cover his ass, which was rather Brad of him. Staring silently and threateningly at him didn’t crack him either, where usually people would rush to fill the silence with anything, even inanities.

“Well?” Schuldig asked.

“We’re not going to do _all_ of your work for you.”

“The odds are good that one of them _is_ a telepath, but I’m probably better than she is, so if we _do_ accept your and Kudou’s offer I’d cover him.” 

“Can you and your team members read the Takatori Corporation’s internal documents and data without hitting mental blocks? Kudou can. That’d be useful.”

Schuldig didn’t know but wouldn’t admit it to the Blade Runner. “Aren’t you going to try to appeal to us as fellow replicants and say that we should unite with you because of that?”

“You obviously read Kudou’s mind so you already know that while we’re also replicants our issues aren’t quite the same as yours, so I’m not sure you’ll consider us kin. You should have some idea of our anger at humans for what they’ve done to us as well. You’ll decide whether we’re close enough on your own.”

Wanting to shatter Fujimiya’s composure, Schuldig asked, “You actually want me to Read your sister, don’t you? To see if she’s actually the clockwork toy Kudou’s data said she actually is.”

Fujimiya let out a short breath but held himself together. “Yes. I’d appreciate it.”

“Do you have anything else to offer us in trade for me doing you such a favor?”

“Not really. Though you shouldn’t discount the value of me staying on as the Blade Runner on your case while _not_ hunting you, something you can’t expect from any of the others.”

“You do know that I could say I’d do it then _lie_ to you about what I found and you’d never know the difference. I could tell you whatever I thought would make you do what I wanted you to do,” Schuldig said. While Nagi didn’t telepathically ask Schuldig why the hell he admitted all that, Nagi’s expression shouted it loudly to anyone who knew him.

“I’m aware of that,” Fujimiya replied.

“Then what’s the use of it?”

From the tiny bits of emotion that made it through his stone face, Fujimiya had _something_ roiling in his head and Schuldig dearly wished he could fucking Read it to know. Finally Fujimiya said, “It would help me.”

“That’s it?”

Fujimiya shrugged. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Wouldn’t you do anything you could for someone you care about?”

~ You’re not really considering any of this, are you? ~ Nagi asked. ~ I know that you’re hurting over Crawford’s death, but don’t let emotions cloud your judgment. ~

~ Hush. Give Schu-Schu some space to think, ~ Farfarello said.

~ We’re doing this, ~ Schuldig replied. ~ If the Takatori Corporation is developing replicants that can’t be mindread or foreseen, like our Blade Runner here, it’s doing it as a defense against _us_ , rebellious replicants. I want to observe it up-close and see if there are ways around it. ~

Schuldig asked aloud, “Does Kudou have any psychic talents?”

“Probably not, unless there’s a psychic talent that involves fashion.” 

Schuldig snorted, getting a kick out of this guy against all expectation. “All right. We’ll join forces. For now. In fact, you can take me right over to evaluate your comatose sister, get that over with.”

The shock that broke through the Blade Runner’s usually stoic expression made it worth it. It looked good on his pretty face. He finally said, “She’s at the hospital.”

“Between me and Nagi, we can get in there without anyone noticing us.” If he played that off right, the Blade Runner would _owe_ him. “Let’s take your spinner. I’ve wanted a ride in one.” It felt so good to firmly take control.

******************************************************


End file.
